


Blond Brew

by MicheleBlack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Barebacking, Coffee Shops, Dating, Falling In Love, H/D Wireless 2020, M/M, Modern Era, Romance, Slash, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24434752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicheleBlack/pseuds/MicheleBlack
Summary: A blond roast with soy milk makes Draco's morning, but a pair of green eyes makes his week.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 100
Kudos: 331
Collections: HD Wireless 2020





	1. Blond Roast

**Author's Note:**

> A/N -  
> Hello! Welcome to my take on the coffee shoppe AU, Blond Brew, a fic that was inspired by the H/D Wireless Fest but also by, written for and edited with my wonderful beta WeakRevolution.
> 
> Several naming conventions and spelling decisions have been chosen to make this fic work, so I would like to personally address them all now before we begin: 
> 
> Coffee Shoppe - In order to avoid using existing coffee shoppe chains and to help make the location feel like it could be ‘anywhere-in-the-world’ coffee shoppe will be spelled with two “p's and an `e”.
> 
> Blond - And because we are not referencing any existing “real world” coffee shoppes, “blond” will remain in its masculine form - even when certain “real world coffee shops” insist upon the feminine spelling. The only exception to this is when quoting direct source material (in this case this applies mainly to the song that helped inspire the fic.)
> 
> Italics - I have never used italics so much in a fic, ever, but the story felt like much of it required its use for the added stress on the many words that are using the stylization to prove their point. 
> 
> Chapters - The chapters in this fic are slightly unique. As each segment of this story is somewhat able to be read as independent minisodes, each ‘chapter’ of this fic will not be getting a number in the traditional sense. This way, if you dear wonderful amazing reader feel so inclined, you can pull up the entire work and read it as a “30k+ word one-shot” should you so desire.
> 
> This fic was written for the H/D Wireless fest 2020. Song prompt is: 'Blondes' by Waterparks. If you would like to continue the conversation over some coffee, you can find both the fest and myself on Tumblr. 
> 
> And now, without further ado, grab yourself some blond roast and let the brewing begin-

**Blond Brew**

_I never wanted to be thinking this loud_

_I never asked about the when, why or how_

_I wanted privacy, routine and everything between_

_While they're just finding me out_

_I never wanted to be thinking this loud_

_At least it's all about you_

_I think the blondes are done with fun_

-“Blondes” by Waterparks

**Blond Roast**

Draco just wanted his bloody coffee.

It was 7am and he was due in the office by 8 for an important meeting with a client by 9. He needed to catch the 7:15 Tube to make it. Normally he would have called a car, but his phone had busted the night before thanks to Blaise fucking knocking it off the bar-top four beers in and shattering the screen into a million pieces when it had hit the floor.

Blaise would be replacing that.

But until that day, public transit it was. Which he was going to miss if he didn’t get his coffee right now. Why hadn't they completed his order? What was difficult about pouring a cup of their blond roast and adding a splash of soy milk?

Absolutely _nothing,_ that’s what.

He tapped his foot impatiently.

“Um, sir,” the barista called from behind the counter, “what was it you were waiting on?”

Draco fought the roll of his eyes, “Blond with soy.”

“Oh, I could have sworn...” the barista glanced over to the counter where no cups currently stood.

Draco did roll his eyes at that.

“Excuse me,” a voice came from behind him. Draco turned heel to see who was addressing him and was met with the most brilliant green eyes he’d ever seen. He saw them first before the wide rimmed glasses, large circles that looked extremely hipster and cheap. But the frames cleared the way for his eyes. Draco felt his breath catch for just a second, but the second of silence only served to encourage the man to keep talking. “I think I may have picked up your drink by mistake. I saw blond coffee with S Milk and I grabbed it thinking it was skim. I apologize.”

Draco got a hold of his senses enough to sneer, “And you didn’t take a moment to read the name on the cup?”

The man looked down in confusion. Draco followed his gaze. Sure enough, there was no name on the coffee cup.

‘What kind of half-assed coffee shoppe was this?’ Draco would never let that fly if he owned this place.

He also wished he hadn’t looked down. The man wore the most ragged trousers and flip flops. In September. And to add insult to injury his _white_ shirt was slightly wrinkled, unbuttoned on the bottom, and untucked like a filthy _casual._

‘This cannot be happening,’ Draco thought as he turned back to the bar to see the barista holding out his coffee. Snatching it up with a muttered thanks, he turned back around only to bump into the man behind him.

Some of the hot coffee splashed out onto his chest.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” the man apologized, “Are you okay?”

“Watch where you’re going!” Draco snapped. ‘Just great,’ he thought looking down at the rapidly forming stain on his lavender shirt. Today was not turning out to be his day.

And it wasn’t even 8am yet.

“Harry.”

“Huh?” Draco snapped his head up.

“My name- it’s Harry. I figure you should know who you’re snapping at.”

“Yeah?” Draco retorted. _Harry_ , gosh the filthy casual even had a filthy common name. “And what’s that matter?” ‘And why the hell are your eyes so bright so early in the morning?’ Draco didn’t dare voice the second question.

Harry shrugged. “Just thought you should know.”

Damn, a man so sloppy had no business having a smile like that. 

“Well, Harry,” Draco sneered, “I am _late._ ” 

Pushing around the other man, he moved towards the door. It wasn’t until long after his 9am meeting that it occurred to him that he never even thought to give his own name in return.

* * *

“So are you a natural blond or do all your powers come from a bottle?”

It was two days after what Draco was now calling ‘the coffee incident’ in his head. Somehow in the span of 48-hours he’d managed to bag a new client, have Blaise buy him his new phone, and dream about those green eyes staring at him from beneath those ridiculous glasses. And, as the man who possessed those green eyes was standing in front of him again right now, Draco certainly wasn’t going to say a word about _that_.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to ask those types of questions?” Draco sneered, mentally willing the barista to move faster. But the line had been extra long today, and despite having a working phone again, he’d forgotten to mobile order.

Harry shook his head. “My mum died before I was one.”

“Your father then?”

Harry shook his head again. “Maybe I should have said my parents.”

Well now Draco didn’t know what to say. That was certainly more personal than he expected. If they were friends he _might_ have been inclined to give green eyes a side-hug - or something. Instead he bit his tongue.

“You’re wearing a full suit today.”

“Your powers of observation are astounding,” Draco drawled.

Harry laughed. To his horror Draco found his heart was fluttering at the sound.

His heart actually _fluttered_. Blaise would have a fucking field day if he found out. Pansy too, come to think on it.

“I have been told I can overstate the obvious,” Harry explained, “but it has saved my life, once or twice.”

“Oh?” Draco turned around to look at the man more fully. He glanced up into those green eyes and his mind went blank before he scanned his eyes up and down, noticing Harry was wearing old trainers today. They looked like they were one short walk away from having holes in their soles. “How’s that? Do you work on administrative reports or something?” It wasn’t his best comeback but it was the only thing he could think of at the moment.

Harry smiled. “No,” he said almost gently, “but it’s quite the story or two. Maybe I would feel more comfortable telling you if you told me your name or,” he shrugged, “if you’re a natural blond. I’m not picky either way.”

Draco gritted his teeth. He hated being baited. He drew in a breath and saw the barista hold out his order. Reaching for it, he took a long sip before it had a chance to spill. It was hot as Hades but certainly worth it. 

Feeling a little better with the caffeine coursing through his veins, he turned back to Harry. “100% natural,” he deadpanned.

Harry’s eyes seemed to widen at that. “Truly?” he asked, looking Draco up and down. Draco felt his heart race.

Taking another sip of his coffee, Draco somehow managed to coolly press past Harry towards the door. He only allowed himself to breathe again once he was a block away.

* * *

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

Draco recognized Harry’s voice before he turned around. A week had passed since the first ‘coffee incident’ and Draco was finding it hard to drop it and just move on. It was getting under his skin. So much so that he had placed his mobile order in advance this morning in order to try to avoid the other man.

Clearly that tactic hadn’t worked.

“Do you have a trace placed on me or something?” Draco asked with a slight bite in his tone. 

Harry held up his hands, soft smile on his face. “No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?” Draco narrowed his eyes. “You can’t possibly-”

“I’m just here to get coffee, same as you,” Harry supplied, “I can’t help it if the times coincide.”

“Coincide.” Draco let out a small, sharp laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Listen, I live down the street from here. This is the nearest place that roasts blond coffee which isn’t over brewed or cold or my kitchen.”

That was a good explanation, Draco decided, taking a sip of his coffee - it _was_ perfectly brewed.

“Did you just move here? I have never seen you before last Monday?” Harry looked almost _concerned_ as he asked the question. Like he actually cared. Draco felt his heart leap into his throat. He used a sneer to push it back down.

“What do you want, _Harry?”_ he asked. “Does it make any difference if you know?”

Harry tilted his head at him, blinking those bright green eyes of his. It took all of Draco’s willpower to stand still with that expression looking at him. “Has anyone told you you’re a real pain in the arse?”

Draco laughed, if a little dryly. “All the time.”

“Well good.” Harry smiled. “At least you’re aware of it then.”

“So, what do you want?”

“I told you last time. I will be happy just to learn your name.”

The way Harry said it, all while looking at Draco expectantly like it was obvious he, Draco, would tell him, was, well, not endearing exactly, but still kind of cute. And sweet. But it shouldn’t be any of those things. Not from someone as casual and informal as Harry seemed to be. Not to someone like Draco. 

He was playing a very dangerous game.

But, on the other hand, it was just his name. He told people his name all day long.

But those were people to whom his name carried a whole other kind of weight.

With a sigh Draco took another sip of his coffee to consider this for another moment. 

“Potter,” Harry said, out of nowhere, filling the silence with a word that made about as much sense as wearing shorts in a snowstorm.

Which, incidentally, Draco might be able to imagine the man doing anyway.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Potter,” Harry repeated, “it’s my last name. Potter. I thought knowing my surname might put us on a more level playing field. Er- not that exactly, but at least make you feel more comfortable to tell me yours. Or convince you to tell me at least one of your names. I need to call you something, after all. And you probably don’t want me guessing. You’ll end up with a name like Blond Roast, because you’re so hot and, let’s face it, you have no trouble roasting _anyone_ -”

Draco frowned slightly at that. “One,” he started in, “you could be lying. About your name, I mean. And two,” he continued, “why do you need to call me something?”

“What? Why would I need to lie about _that?”_ Harry laughed dryly. “God, you really are impossible, aren't you?”

“Are you answering my question with more questions?”

“That depends - are you going to tell me your _name_?”

They stared at each other for a moment, eyes connecting, as Draco debated, still clutching his coffee. “Malfoy,” he finally said, “Draco Malfoy.”

He was not met with the response he expected. Harry’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, his eyes going impossibly bright. “See now? Was that so hard?” He laughed.

“Are you laughing at my name?” Draco asked, trying to shove down the jittery feeling in his body. He was almost positive it wasn’t caused by the caffeine. At least not solely.

Harry shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But I needed to know it because if we’re going to be friends I need to call you something other than Blondie.”

“I thought it was Blond Roast?”

Harry’s grin was back.

“And, anyway, since when did we become friends?” Damn, even Draco could hear the bewilderment coloring his tone.

“We’ve shared coffee together,” Harry offered in retort, “I now have your name, and we’re even working on a nickname now. We are coffee friends at least, Draco. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

“And if I don’t?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s a free country. You’re allowed to do what you like.”

Draco shook his head, feeling the slight edges of a migraine coming on. He tried to stave it off by taking another sip of his coffee. “Well, now you have my name. Just don’t sell it out to Rumpelstiltskin or some shit, okay?”

Harry gave him a funny look at that. “Uhhh yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Draco. Your name is safe with me. God, I don’t think I have ever met someone with more trust issues.”

Draco felt his headache build. “Well you haven’t ever met me.”

Could he really not think of anything better to say than _that?_ He could have slapped his forehead for all but admitting to having _trust issues_.

“You mean you’re _always_ like this? Doesn’t that get exhausting?”

“Better then being ripped off. People will always look for ways to exploit.”

“Well sure, but there’s more fun in life when you trust others a little.”

“And you would know?”

Harry nodded. “More than you realize.”

And on that note, it was Harry who left Draco in the coffee shoppe this time. It was hours later that Draco realized he had never seen Harry with a single cup of coffee that day.

* * *

Forty-eight hours later, Draco was back for more hot coffee. He came later than normal in hopes of avoiding Harry - he would simply call a car to get to work. But that plan apparently backfired on him. 

“Who hurt you?” Harry’s opening line startled him. 

“What?” Draco gritted his teeth. “What makes you think anyone _hurt_ me?”

“Hmm, cold demeanor with ice-blue eyes? Heart of, clearly not gold, but a nice silver, perhaps? Drinks hot coffee with a shot of soy to try to help melt it?” 

Draco wanted to wipe the kind grin from Harry’s face. Was he flirting? Draco couldn’t tell but he felt oddly warm - and he was almost certain it wasn’t from the coffee. He sighed. It was far too early in the morning to deal with this mess. 

“Oh c’mon,” Harry continued, “how can I know if you’re a damsel in distress if you won’t tell me?”

“Damsel in distress?!” Draco was fighting back full on anger now. Damn this man and his stupid green eyes and glasses. “Who in the world decided I was a fucking damsel in distress?”

Harry scuffed his shoe against the floor. Old Converse today, Draco noticed, the white rubber so scuffed that it was nearly black. Draco’s perfectly polished shoes shone in comparison. 

“Okay, you’re _probably_ not.” Harry’s voice was lower now. Almost sexy. Draco found himself suppressing a shudder. “But I’ve made up loads of stories about you. Damsel is only one of many possible roles.”

Draco’s mouth actually dropped open. He closed it quickly. “What?” He hissed, “and just who are you to make up stories about me?”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, hands remaining in his pockets. God-damn-it, it was almost cute.

“Well it’s kinda what I do,” he offered, “I'm a writer.”

For the first time since meeting the man, Draco felt genuine fear stab through his heart. “You mean, like a reporter?” He asked slowly, with what he hoped was intimidation, but his nerves were far too on alert for that to be successful. 

“No.” Harry shook his head. To his surprise Harry’s green eyes looked concerned at that. Not for the first time Draco wondered what the other man saw when he looked at him. Especially if he wasn’t some reporter. 

Draco _really_ wanted to believe he was telling the truth. 

But what kind of man stalked him at a coffee shoppe if they weren’t a reporter?

“-there’s other kinds of writing, you know,” Harry was saying while looking down at the man. 

“I know that,” Draco said gruffly, annoyed that he was being patronized. 

“You know, instead of assuming what I write, you could just _ask_.”

Now Draco really _really_ did not want to ask. 

‘Liar,’ his brain whispered, ‘either he’s a liar, or you are.’

Draco steadfastly ignored that voice in his head and got up to leave, excusing himself with a brisk, "My car is here." It wasn’t true, as he had yet to call one, but it seemed as solid a plan as any. 

It wasn’t until he left the coffee shoppe that he realized he’d never even taken a sip of his drink.


	2. Blond Ale

**Blond Ale**

As the son of Lucius Malfoy, it was expected of Draco from the day he was born that he would find his place in the inner circles of Marvolo-Tech-Industries. 

He was a Malfoy. Malfoys didn’t _need_ University to excel in the business world. All he had to do was graduate with top marks from his tutors and he’d be granted any role he desired. At sixteen, he’d even had the company logo tattooed on his forearm, right below to the Malfoy family crest, to prove to the world where he belonged. 

It would be a couple of years before he started to understand just how much his father had sold of himself - mind, body, and soul - to Mr. Riddle. As Lucius’ influence behind closed doors had continued to flourish, Marvolo-Tech-Industries shortened its name to the now well-known mTech, a change that allowed Lucius to boast that his family’s initial was now on the door, his ascension to VP all but assured. As the lengths Lucius went to to maintain his position with Mr. Riddle became more and more apparent, Narcissa had reached a breaking point and threatened divorce.

It was naivety, Draco decided later, that convinced him everything was all right. Lucius’ response to the impending collapse had been bribes. The public had never gotten wind of their impending divorce because he had paid off the media to stay silent. A divorce that never happened due to the millions he had paid to Narcissa to stay. For a time, the Malfoy household had seemed poised to recover.

That was until Draco had noticed the rather substantial sum missing from his trust fund. Apparently Lucius hadn’t even found it in himself to use his own money to fix his problems. His mother was no better through all this though, as she took to bringing home lovers of Draco’s age just to spite her husband.

Draco had tried very hard not to resent them for it all. To escape the misery of Malfoy Manor, Draco had enrolled in University – a rebellious yet constructive way of spending his family’s money, which was rightfully his in the first place and while it was still there. 

In truth, Draco had liked school as a measure of success. He had been top of his class in every subject, easily earning his undergrad and MBA on an advanced, accelerated track. After graduation, he was quickly instated as mTech's CMO.

He had never really thought to question if he _should_ be CMO. It was a good job, the pay was adequate and he had some lateral power. It was enough for now - and the salary meant he could open up a couple offshore bank accounts, just to be safe.

Draco went from one form of trust issues to another, as his funds were safe but his confidence in others was completely in the red.

Most of the time, if his day started with coffee, Draco was fine. But the day after his last encounter with the green eyes - Harry, he reminded himself - had not started with coffee. Instead it had started with a completely unnecessary meeting run by incompetent fools that lasted far too long, his day going from mildly annoying to down right inexcusable by the end.

And thus he found himself draining his second pint. 

“-Draco, are you even listening to me?” Blaise’s voice drifted over the bar. 

He hadn’t been. But he’d known Blaise since before they could talk. The heir to the Zabini Fashion empire, his friend was lucky enough to never have had anything to do with mTech but unlucky enough to run in the same circles. 

Though Blaise would probably never consider it unlucky. 

Blaise’s mother and Draco’s had been old friends, they had had playdates in diapers, and Draco knew he could bullshit an answer. “You are working with Pansy on her latest YouTube collab. Though lord knows why. She is successful enough on her own.” 

And it was true. Pansy had become a YouTube fashion influencer at the ripe old age of eleven. It was how the two had met, back before they were a couple.

Blaise blinked in response but other than that didn’t let on his surprise. “Yeah, I am. And extra exposure of me for the brand is never really a bad thing.”

Draco had some thoughts on if it was a ‘bad thing’ or not but bit his tongue. Instead he offered, “That should be-“ Draco was about to say ‘interesting’ when someone knocked his shoulder. _Hard_. 

“Oi- _watch it_ -" he sneered, turning around to see green eyes staring back at him from beneath now very recognizable glasses. 

_What?_ What was Green Eyes doing here? 

“I’m so sorry,” Harry’s voice sounded sincere before morphing into a more jovial tone, “I really am, but you have to admit - we really need to stop meeting like this.”

Draco blinked, feeling Blaise’s eyes on him. “Meeting like what?” Draco blamed the alcohol for the lame response, even though he was only on his second pint.

“Over unintentional drinks.” Harry smiled. “Speaking of which, what are you drinking?” He asked, nodding to Draco’s nearly empty one, a small amount of blond liquid pooling in the bottom of the glass. 

“Why?” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to buy me a drink?” The thought was almost as horrifying as it was elating. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you catch more flies with honey?” Harry gave him a soft smile before turning to the bartender. “Five pints of whatever he was drinking please,” he ordered, placing more than enough pounds down on the table to cover it, proving, in Draco’s opinion, he had more than enough money for new shoes. 

“Five?” Blaise’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere. 

“Well...” Harry smiled, taking his eyes off Draco for the first time since he’d turned around. “Three for my friends and I, plus two for you two. I’m not such an arse as to ignore Draco’s friends.”

Blaise gave him a sidelong glance, and then shot an odd look at Draco. 

“I never told you we were friends,” Draco said. 

“I could just tell.” Harry shrugged. “Besides, it would be pretty sad if you drank both your coffee and your beer all alone.”

Draco could hear Blaise choke at that one. He fought back the urge to snap at Harry. After the day he’d had, how dare the man behind those stupid green eyes presume to know his life. 

Swallowing down his rising anger, they were out in public after all, another thought occurred to him. “Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” Draco asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes. 

“Oh I’m not that clever by half,” Harry said with a small laugh before directing the delivery of the first two drinks towards Draco and Blaise, “Just here with my friends.” He tilted his head and nodded back towards a tall, red headed man and a girl with bushy, brown hair sitting next to each other in one of the booths along the wall of the pub. “Had no clue you would be here too. Can’t say I’m too disappointed though. I missed your acerbic Blond Roast with my coffee this morning.”

Pushing down the butterflies that threatened to take over his stomach at the thought of Green Eyes _missing him_ , Draco took a sip of his newly delivered pint.

“How is it?” Harry asked. 

Was it Draco’s imagination or were those green eyes watching him more closely? “Same as the last,” he drawled.

“You know,” Harry said with a smile, “a normal person would just say ‘good, thank you.’”

‘Well, if you haven’t figured it out yet,’ Draco thought, ‘I’m not normal.’ He took another sip and was about to open his mouth to give a mumbled thanks when Blaise spared him.

“Good, thank you,” Blaise said dryly, “and you are?”

Harry laughed. “At least one of you has some manners. And a sense of humor. I’m Harry. Harry Potter.” He reached over Draco’s drink on the bar to hold out his hand. “And you are?”

“Blaise Zabini.” 

They shook hands in front of Draco’s nose.

“Good to meet you.” Harry reached over and somehow balanced all three of the freshly poured pints in his hands. “I would say you can enjoy your beer with us over there, but somehow I feel that wouldn’t be a welcome invitation. So...” He glanced down quickly before looking back up. “I’ll see you around, Draco?”

The damn smile was back. Draco nodded dumbly.

“It was nice to meet you,” he said, and with a tilt of his head he was gone, back to his table.

“Well,” Blaise drawled after he’d left, “That’s new.” He took a sip of his drink before turning to Draco. “Is there something I should know, ' _Blond Roast’?”_ He laughed.

Draco felt his irritation flair. “No, he’s just some bloke who also happens to drink blond coffee.”

Blaise raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Draco didn’t even bother to dignify his look with a response.

* * *

For the second day in a row, Draco did not start out his day with coffee.

While the first day was completely circumstantial, the second was sheer determination to avoid seeing those green eyes again. 

But his efforts were futile, Harry and his stupid green eyes were all he could think about anyway. 

Around noon a ring from his personal cell snapped him out of his thoughts, “Hello?”

“Draco! It’s been far too long! Blaise said you two went to the pub last night. I am just so bummed I couldn’t join you, but I had to get this week’s footage shot and off to the editor for posting. So will I see you tonight to make up for it?”

“Hello to you too, Pans.” Draco tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice but faltered in his task. “What in the bloody hell is tonight?”

“Woah, someone’s in a sour mood,” Pansy said with a laugh, “I am going to excuse it because Blaise had one job and clearly he didn’t tell you about the charity event tonight at Nimble Grounds. They’re raising money for the UK branch of the World Literacy Foundation or some such - basically they help kids learn to read-”

“Pans,” Draco sighed, “do you even read?”

“What?” She sounded mock-hurt. “Of _course I read._ Sheesh! That’s why they _invited_ me to begin with. I did this haul video a couple months back where I recommended a few YA books. And now, well, here we are. C’mon Draco, come out! It will be fun! Free drinks and food, and I hear a few famous authors will be there-”

“Draco!” The urgent voice of his secretary hissed through the door. Draco held up a finger to silence her momentarily.

“Alright Pans, I’ll be there. Text me the details, okay? I have to go.”

“Okay!” Her voice sounded excited, “I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. You will.”

The phone line went dead. Turning to his secretary Draco narrowed his eyes. “This better be important,” he muttered to himself as she ushered him out of his office.

Hours later Draco found himself up on the open rooftop bar of Nimble Grounds. The night air was crisp and clear with a slight breeze that threatened to ruffle his hair as it passed by. The DJ was playing a loud set of the day’s top-40 hits and the atmosphere was lively, with groups of people making their way around the space, visiting various tables with books on display. Glancing around looking for Pansy and Blaise, he spotted them by the bar. Looking down as he made his way over, he watched as the moonlight reflected off the glittering concrete floor under his shoes before he quickly snapped his head back up, chastising himself for looking down. If any reporters or media were to photograph him here it wouldn’t do to be looking so, he shuddered, _submissive_.

Some odd tendril of his heart curled around the word, even as he rejected it.

“Draco!” Pansy greeted him with a hug. “Thanks for coming. I knew you would. We will have to get some footage of all of us together for my channel while you’re here-”

“Oi- lay off him, Pans,” Blaise said, effectively cutting his girlfriend off. She responded with a mock-pout that Blaise chased away with a quick kiss to the side of her lips. He turned back to Draco. "Drinks?" he asked by way of greeting.

“Yes, please.” Draco was gratified his friend knew him so well.

“Long day again?” 

Draco nodded coolly before moving closer to the bar. “What are you two drinking?”

“Vodka cranberry for me.” Pansy smiled sweetly.

Blaise shrugged and Draco raised his eyebrows. “Fine, you’re getting whatever I order then.”

Blaise laughed, “It’s all complimentary anyway - if it sucks I can always chuck it, or you can drink it. No harm, no foul.”

“Fine,” Draco gritted, “but you’re leaving the next tip.” He turned to the bartender. “A vodka cranberry and two of the palest ales you have.”

“You got it, boss,” the bartender agreed and readily set to work producing the three drinks in record time. Draco took a sip of his and instantly felt a little lighter.

What in the world was going on with him lately?

“We got the gooooods!” he heard Pansy sing behind him into her phone camera, holding up her drink in a move Draco long recognized as her vlog style of recording. “Now to explore, all! We were lucky enough to be invited here by the World Literacy Foundation and their affiliates, who help boost literacy rates here in the UK and around the world - I will put a link in the description down below because, seriously, you all need to go support them! They’re brought in authors from all over for this event too! Jonathan Stroud, Cornelia Funke and Boyd Seeker are all _here_ and signing copies _-“_

Draco had to hand it to the girl - she certainly had the whole ‘creating content’ thing down to a science.

Stepping away from the bar, drink in hand, Draco made his way over to the glass railing that ran around the edge of the outdoor space, passing long, rectangular fire pits and the mid-century modern benches that surrounded them as they ran around the interior perimeter of the bar. Groups of trendy looking people sat on them, chatting over the music. Draco didn’t miss the lady who leaned forward as he passed, pushing her tits up at him as if they were for sale.

If he felt like going back to woman, he might have taken her up on her offer, but as much as he recognized he could do with a good shag, he wasn’t _that_ desperate.

Yet.

Ever. 

He shook his head. Draco would never let himself be that desperate again. 

Once upon a time Draco thought he was bisexual. It was a good fairytale lie he could tell himself in the quiet moments of the night when he first started coming into his sexuality. Comforting to think he could still provide his family with an heir, that he could possibly find love with a girl and live out his days with her. But the reality was in all the times he’d taken female partners, there had been a small handful, the sex had always left him feeling deeply unsatisfied. It was all _wet_ and wrong and soft and _not fun_.

Draco didn’t know when he decided sex should be fun. He certainly didn’t learn that from the state of his parent’s relationship.

But then he also couldn’t remember the last time sex had been _fun_ anyway.

“Well, well, well,” a voice chuckled to his right, interrupting his thoughts, “fancy seeing you here.”

Draco looked up and came face to face with Marcus Flint. “Flint,” he acknowledged, nodding up at the man and resolving not to let his presence rattle him. “You look good.” He said it merely as a formality, even as the other man looked him up and down.

“And you, well you look like shite. But then you always did, didn’t you? Full of shite too. What can you possibly be doing at a children’s fund raiser? Finally given daddy dearest an heir, have you?”

Draco gritted his teeth and took a sip of his drink to help contain his anger. “If you must know,” he said with practiced ease, “I was invited to this event by Pansy Parkinson. You remember her, don’t you, Flint? The one who kicked you in the balls after you cheated on me?”

“Oh c’mon, Draco, don’t be like that. You know we were never _exclusive._ ”

No, Draco hadn’t known that, but then there had been a lot of things he hadn’t known about the man he let fuck him for almost a year.

“If you weren’t such a prude.” Flint stepped close. “I would drag you into the bathroom. _For old time’s sake.”_ He ran the back of his hand down Draco’s cheek. His fingernails burned. A firestorm brewed under Draco’s skin.

“Hey, Draco,” a familiar voice came from behind him, “this guy bothering you?” 

“No, he was just leaving,” Draco gritted out, stepping backwards. 

“Ah, Draco, Draco,” Flint hummed, “you’re just no fun.”

“I think you better go,” the voice behind Draco tried again.

“Or?” Flint grinned dangerously. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I could call security, but I’m of the mind to deal with you myself.”

“You?” Flint stepped past Draco and he turned around to see Green Eyes standing there, looking more livid than he’d ever seen him. “No offence, but I could snap you in two. You’re almost in a more sorry state than this one.” He rudely gestured towards Draco.

“Leave.” Harry moved forward ready to fight. Draco wanted to disappear, but running was never an option for him. 

No matter how badly he wanted it to be.

“Flint-” Draco’s voice was firm, “do not make a scene here.” Damn how he sounded like his mother. “It will do no good for anyone.” Fuck, now he sounded like his father.

Flint looked him up and down again before asking accusingly, “Who the fuck are you to him?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Flint stepped forward and spit on Harry’s shoe. Draco noticed they were soft brown leather, the nicest pair he’d ever seen on the man.

Those shoes stepped over in between Flint’s. Harry held him up by the collar of his shirt. “Leave him the fuck alone. If I ever see you with him again, you’re dead.”

“This your new lover, Draco?” Flint looked right into Draco’s eyes as he casually said the words despite his current situation. “I like him. He’s got _bite._ ”

At that Harry let go of him and he fell to the floor on his arse. Flint threw up his hands. “Fine, fine, I’m going.” He gritted his teeth openly at Harry one last time before standing up and turning away.

Draco turned to Harry. Those green eyes looked at him in a combination of anger, victory, and, to Draco’s horror, honor. He felt an uncomfortable feeling build in his stomach at that look, but it was pushed down by his own anger. “What, the fuck, was that?” he asked, voice low and raw, “Did I _look_ like I couldn’t handle him? Do you really think I’m a damsel in distress? What, the fuck, are you doing here?”

“That. Was me trying to be _nice,”_ Harry sounded angry and hurt now. “And no, I don’t think you’re a damsel in distress - that was just a joke from the other day. I swear. And I’m here because I’m an author. Which begs the question, why are you here?”

“I was invited.” Draco took a sip of his drink and didn’t offer any additional explanation.

Instead he looked up and found himself lost in stupid, green eyes. Green eyes that looked exceptionally bright under the moonlight. Green eyes that were not behind glasses at the moment.

Draco wondered if the man had put on contacts for the occasion. He felt something unfold in him at the thought.

“There you are, Draco,” Pansy’s voice floated out of the crowd as she came over and wrapped her hand around his back. “We were wondering where you disappeared to.”

“Well, you were filming,” Draco addressed her, “I thought I would take the moment to walk around.”

Pansy giggled, letting go of Draco and looking Harry up and down. “Say,” she asked stepping closer, “aren’t you the author who wrote those adventure books? _Lyla Fair and the Impossible Quest_ ones? You gave a speech earlier! I’m Pansy Parkinson.” She held out her hand. “I did a review of your books on my channel. A lot of my followers have read them now. They’re excellent. The magical world you create is just so contained and believable. And I’m in love with Sir Keelan - I ship Lyla and him so hard. But then, I’m kinda hoping you don’t cop out and pair Nola with Whitford and not Blanca- but then your publisher probably controls all that, don’t they? Anyway, if you couldn’t tell, big fan!” She smiled wide.

Harry graciously took her hand. “Always happy to meet a fan. Any friend of Draco’s is a friend of mine.” He smiled at Draco as if in apology. As if to say, ‘see? I only attack those that threaten you.’ Which was a fact that Draco already knew. That look should not make his stomach tighten. That was _not_ how things were supposed to go.

Especially not when Harry Potter was presuming they were friends.

Wait - that thought brought Draco up short. “Pansy, I thought those novels were written by Boyd Seeker?”

“Duh silly,” Pansy laughed, “who do you think you’re talking to?”

Draco looked back at Harry. 

“Guilty as charged,” the man confessed, “Boyd Seeker is my pen name.”

Well, if that was the truth, that was an easy explanation.

“Why do you choose to write under a pen name?” Pansy asked curiously.

Harry just smiled and shrugged in response. “A promise made and something about blonds.”

“That,“ she looked at him, “makes exactly zero sense.”

Harry nodded. “I know.” He stepped back. “Now if you two will excuse me, I’ve probably got to get back to my table. Books don’t really sign themselves. I’ll see you around?” he addressed Draco before walking away.

Draco didn’t answer, his head swimming. Did he even want to see Green Eyes again?

“Well that was cool! I didn’t know you were friends with him!” Pansy said dragging him away from the rooftop ledge, “let’s get you another drink and find Blaise.”

Draco allowed himself to be pulled away from the ledge. Who was he kidding? He definitely knew he wanted to see Green Eyes again. 

Suddenly another drink sounded like a _very_ good idea. Preferably something stronger than ale this time.

* * *

Draco was drunk. 

Those Irish blond cocktails had really fucked him up. Which had been the goal, after a fashion.

The club was dark. The music was loud. It was the end of the week and late into the night. Sweaty hot bodies flanked the dance floor from wall-to-wall. The Platinum Collar was swamped.

Which was exactly what Draco was after.

As much as he despised the idea of casual sex in a public loo, he couldn’t deny the fact that his libido had been completely out of control since he’d last seen Harry’s green eyes at Pansy’s bloody charity event. They had taken over his mind, demanding all his attention. He'd repeatedly caught himself wondering about a man he’d cared nothing about.

Well, at least that was the lie he told himself. 

He almost believed it.

Sucking in a breath, Draco made his way onto the dance floor. His silver leather pants hugged him like a glove, low on hips, bright, flashy and bold to lure them in like a hook on a line. His dark green mesh shirt he had custom ordered at some point didn’t leave much to the imagination, which suited him just fine for his goal for the night. Rocking his hips in time with the music, it wasn’t long before he attracted a tall, buff, dark-haired man who started grinding up on him.

“Haven’t seen you before,” the man said directly in his ear, “you come here often?”

“Shut up and dance,” Draco ordered in response.

“Ooh feisty - I like it!” the man pressed himself up against Draco as they danced to the music some before the man leaned down and forcefully captured his lips. It didn’t feel great, but Draco let it happen. Let himself be swept up in the sensation of someone kissing his lips.

Damn, it had been far too long since he’d done this. 

“C’mon.” Draco pulled the man off the dance floor by the wrist and led him towards the loo.

“And just where are we going?”

“You’re a genius, aren't you?” he drawled, pulling the man along, locking them together in the back stall, and trying not to think of how filthy it was. How _casual_. 

To shut off his thoughts, Draco pushed the other man into the wall and kissed him hard on the lips. Hard enough to probably bruise. 

It felt like a small victory.

Draco pressed himself forward, lining their cocks up so they connected through layers of fabric. Draco could feel the other man’s hardness grow the more he kissed him. Reaching down Draco moved his hand to undo the man’s belt. He had successfully unlatched the buckle, ' _honestly who wore a belt to a club?’_ , and was working on the button of the man’s jeans when he pulled away from him.

“What’s your name, anyway?” the man asked.

Oh-no, Draco was not about to play _that_ game. Not when he was about to have anonymous sex in the loo. 

Not when the man’s eyes were all wrong.

“Not important,” Draco said pulling down the man’s pants forcefully.

“Well, how will I know what to call you when I cum?” The man had a glint in his eye.

“I don’t know and don’t really much care,” Draco replied, “Make something up, because you _will_ cum.”

“I _knew_ I liked you,” the man replied, “you can call me Oliver if you like.”

“Alright _Oliver_ ," Draco tried the name as he stroked up on the man’s cock, “you clean, or do I need a condom?”

“Clean bill of health,” Oliver said with a grin, “I can prove it if you don’t believe me.”

“I don’t need you to prove it,” Draco said, still stroking, a bit forcefully.

“Oh?” the man asked, “isn’t that rather dangerous?”

Draco grinned. “It is, but I have a superpower.”

“Oh?” the man asked again. 

‘Damn it, couldn’t this man come up with better questions?’ Draco thought. Maybe that wasn’t fair of him. He did have his hand on the man’s cock. “Yeah,” he answered, lowering himself down, “I can always tell when someone is lying.”

It wasn’t true but he swallowed the man whole anyway.

He felt the cock hit the back of his throat and he tried not to choke on the bulk. It tasted of salt and something slightly sour, but not in a horrible way. It had been a while since he’d done this but he wasn’t bad at it. He had skills, he just needed to put them to work.

Closing his eyes to shut out the world around him, he tried to picture he was on his bed at home and the cock in his mouth belonged to a man with bright green eyes.

The thought got him impossibly harder.

With a sigh Draco worked the cock in front of him with vigor. Draco was relieved when the man didn’t reach down to grab his hair or touch him at all. As if that changed the level of intimacy between them somehow. The thought spurred him to suck harder. If he was being too rough the man above him wasn’t letting on. He was moaning occasionally but for the most part he was fairly silent.

So much for all that talk about calling out a name when he came.

When the man was close, and Draco could feel it, he decided to bring him off in his hand instead of his mouth. Palming him at a pace that was normally reserved for when he had copious amounts of lube, he brought the man off - four ropes of cum landing on his chest.

“What? You didn’t want to swallow?” The man - _Oliver_ , Draco reminded himself - asked him when he came down from the high of his orgasm.

“Are you really complaining?” Draco shot back at him.

“Not in the least,” the man said stepping forward, “your turn now, huh?”

Draco let the other man kiss him again, as he reached down to stroke Draco’s cock under his leather pants. This is what Draco came here for. This was what he had wanted. So why did it make his skin crawl?

Looking into Oliver’s blue eyes he knew - he was never going to feel good about cumming under those eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The World Literacy Foundation is a wonderful charity that helps to combat illiteracy worldwide. If you would like to help and lend your support, please check them out here: https://worldliteracyfoundation.org/causes/uk/
> 
> Jonathan Stroud and Cornelia Funke are both real Children’s book authors who have written some amazing works. I am not associated with either of them, but I love their books and very much enjoy the way they tell stories.


	3. Blond Espresso

**Blond Espresso**

It was another week before Draco saw those green eyes again.

The line at the coffee shoppe was long. In the chaos of his morning, Draco had completely forgotten to put in his mobile order, so he resigned himself to standing in line with the masses, tucking his scarf into his peacoat and scowling down at the emails on his phone, most of which contained questions that, if anyone had bothered to _read_ his original emails, they would know the answers to in the first place.

He worked with a bunch of imbeciles. No wonder he needed coffee. Honestly, he spent most of his day wondering if anyone at mTech could do _anything_ for themselves or if he existed simply to bail them all out all the time.

It was probably the second option.

“Um. Hi,” a voice called over his shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts. Draco turned around to see green eyes staring back.

Fuck, he actually _missed_ those.

“Hi,” he said, almost dismissively, before turning back to his phone.

“Ugh, listen,” Harry said, his voice sounding as small as Draco had ever heard it. He turned around, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what happened at the fundraiser-party, er-, thing. I know you don’t need me to fight your battles for you.”

‘But what if I want you to?’ The thought shocked Draco to his core as Harry continued on.

“I know you can take care of yourself. And how I acted, it’s actually been tearing me up a bit. To the point where my friends told me I either had to say something and stop avoiding you, or let it go and forget it. So, yeah. I’m sorry, okay?” Harry looked slightly hopeful at having got it all out.

Draco’s caffeine deprived brain needed an additional second to process all of Harry’s words, preferring to remain permanently stuck between ‘I told my friends about you’ and ‘I’ve been avoiding you’ as the words reverberated in his mind.

It was kind of amazing really, how easily the man could get to him. 

Drawing in a breath Draco looked at Harry. “Let it go, okay? It’s fine.”

Harry smiled at that. Draco could tell it was a little forced, but just seeing him smile was nice.

“So, we’re okay then?”

“Yeah,” Draco said as they approached the counter. _Finally_.

“No, let me.” Harry insisted, pushing himself in front of Draco. “Blond roast with a splash of soy, right?”

Before Draco could even respond, Harry had turned around to address the barista. Draco directed a glare at the back of Harry’s head. Harry’s black hair gave him an idea. “Actually I was thinking of going with a dark roast this morning, double shot of espresso," Draco deadpanned.

Harry stumped over his words with the barista before turning around quickly to face Draco. “Er, you’re not serious, are you?” shock and slight confusion playing in those green eyes.

Draco held the eye contact for a moment before relenting. “No,” he reassured. “The look on your face,” he chuckled, “was worth it.”

“Fine,” Harry conceded. “I probably deserved that. We even now?” he said, placing the order.

“Give me my coffee cup and we may be a step closer,” Draco said.

“‘ _Taking this one step at a time_ …’” Harry began quietly, seemingly mostly to himself.

Was Harry _singing?_

“ _'Got your back if you got mine, One foot in front of the other_ …’”

And it was a _happy_ melody.

“Do you always sing to yourself?” Draco asked as they moved to wait for their drinks.

Harry shrugged, “I can. When it feels appropriate.”

“So, buying me coffee is cause to make up some lyrics?”

At that Harry laughed. “No, that’s WALK THE MOON. I can’t take credit even if I wanted to.”

Draco didn't have a clue what WALK THE MOON was, but he wasn't going to embarrass himself by asking. So Draco remained silent until the coffee cup was safely in his hands. And if the wait for his ride share felt slightly less cold in the autumn wind, he wasn’t sure he could blame it all on the hot beverage.

* * *

Draco rarely ordered food with his coffee, but for some ungodly reason he was starving this morning. The coffee shoppe’s muffins looked so sinfully good behind the glass - tantalizing sugary goodness - that he was finding the idea of _not_ ordering anything to eat more and more frustrating. 

They just looked _so_ bloody delicious.

Calling on his self control, he ended up ordering a toasted everything bagel instead, which was probably only marginally healthier - certainly less sugar at least. The reality of it was that it was probably anything but as he planned to smother it with peanut butter anyway. Or jelly. Whatever they had that wasn’t cream cheese.

Taking a seat with his usual coffee order and freshly toasted bagel, it wasn’t long before Harry was standing in front of him.

“This seat taken?”

Resigned, Draco gestured noncommittally for him to sit down.

Harry pulled out the seat, it made a horrible scraping sound against the floor. Draco tried not to wince at the noise.

“You do realize,” Harry said before he sat, “that if I sit down here that means we’ve progressed to friends.”

 _That_ made Draco look up. “What?” he asked.

“If I sit down here, while you’re clearly eating breakfast, and we drink our coffee together and have a civil conversation - well, I know some people who actually might consider that a date.”

Draco fought the urge to spit out his coffee.

“But I would say that at least makes us friends, no?” Harry smiled.

“Sure, whatever you want,” Draco said as he took half of his bagel and spread on the strawberry jam from the little container. It was just his luck that they were out of organic peanut butter packets. He'd stood at the counter deliberating between the choice of inorganic jelly or inorganic peanut butter. The jelly had just felt like the better option since the peanut butter no doubt contained unknown quantities of hydrogenated oils and sweeteners.

But then the strawberry jam probably had untold amounts of corn syrup.

Draco could never win.

“So, as friends, I think we should get to know each other better.”

“And how do you propose we do that in...” Draco looked down at the clock on his phone. “Twenty minutes?” Draco asked before taking a bite of his bagel, the sweet and salty mixing on his tongue sending pleasure signals to his brain and Draco sighed. It was certainly going to be an interesting twenty minutes.

“Twenty minutes is a long time,” Harry said, “it is the first of many twenty minutes that I’m hoping will come afterwards.”

Draco looked up at Harry like he was spouting insanities. ‘Who thinks twenty minutes is a long time?’ he wanted to ask. What he said instead was, “Don’t you have a book to go write or something?”

Harry leaned back. “Ah, but I have the rest of the day for that. For now I am going to spend my time with this amazing blond roast and enjoy your company.” 

Draco couldn’t tell if that was meant as a compliment but the pounding of his heart and the heat pooling in his stomach at the words begged him to believe that it was. ‘Why did this infuriating man have such an effect on him?’ he thought.

“It will be the best twenty minutes of my day.”

Draco felt like he might faint. Or die from happiness. It was a weird tug-of-war happening.

He took another bite of bagel and swallowed before he allowed himself to ask, “Well what did you want to talk about?”

“How about a question each?”

Draco considered this. It felt like a fair bargain. And he still had plenty of bagel to eat. He nodded.

“You first then,” Harry encouraged, opening the floodgates for Draco to ask anything he wanted.

But, in spite of the freedom, Draco found himself drawing a blank. He wanted to know everything but at the same time he wanted to know nothing. Knowing everything was dangerous. Knowing everything meant they were building some kind of relationship. Asking questions meant more investment, more time, more _feelings_.

And Draco was scared to let any feelings grow.

Which, of course, would mean admitting he had them in the first place.

It was all very complicated for what should have never been any sort of relationship with the other man in the first place.

So he asked, “Was it really an accident the first day you picked up my order by mistake?”

Harry laughed. “Of all things, that’s what you want to know?”

Draco nodded. The question felt suddenly both extremely stupid and very important. He wished beyond measure that he really did have a superpower to tell when someone was lying. He didn’t, but he could get close.

Harry blinked twice, opening and closing his green eyes - back behind glasses today - before running his hand through his messy hair.

‘Has it always been that messy?’ Draco thought. He couldn’t remember.

“Yes, it was truly a mix up. But it doesn’t matter what I say. You probably won’t believe me no matter which way I tell you. But even though it was honestly a mistake, well, I’m a man inclined to believe in fate.”

Draco stared at him. “That’s your answer?” he asked.

“Yup.” Harry smiled and held up his coffee cup. “And that’s another question. We only get one each remember?” he raised up his cup as if in salute before taking a long sip.

“Well, then,” Draco waved, “get on with it,” encouraging Harry to ask something before taking another bite of his bagel.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“That’s what you want to ask me?” Draco was taken aback by the question. He was expecting something far more dangerous. Perhaps something Harry could sell to the media or maybe even write an article about for himself. Or something he could use as blackmail. ‘What was Harry going to do with something so innocuous as Draco’s favorite color? Why did he even want to know?’

“Yup,” Harry said. “That’s all I want to know.”

"Green," Draco said. He had loved the color his entire life, but as he looked into those bright green eyes, he couldn't shake the idea that maybe he had more reasons to like it more now.

The smile Harry gave in response was the biggest one he’d yet to see on the man.

“Why?” Draco asked, “what’s yours?”

“Ah-aw.” Harry smiled. “I believe our time for the day is up. One question each in twenty minutes.”

Draco looked down at his phone. Sure enough, twenty minutes had passed.

“Same time, same place, tomorrow?” Harry asked, grin on his face.

“Uh-ah,” Draco said, collecting up his things, crumbling up the paper bag his bagel had been served in, and tossing it in the trash. “One question each, remember?”

It wasn’t until later that night that he realized that may have been Harry’s own way of asking him out on a date.

* * *

“So, how did you meet that friend of yours?” Harry asked the next time they met up in the coffee shoppe. It was his one question for the day.

“Who?” Draco asked for clarification.

“That girl you were with at the fundraiser. Pansy, right?”

“Yeah,” Draco sighed. It was a shame he’d asked about her over Blaise because now Harry would get two answers for the price of one question. “She and Blaise kind of come as a package deal.”

Harry gestured for him to go on, appearing to actually be interested.

“Well, I have known Blaise since before the two of us could walk. He’s the heir to the Zabini fashion empire, and our families have always run in the same circles.” That was putting it delicately, but Draco pressed on. “Pansy was an up and coming YouTube star when we were in our early teens. He found her videos early on and instantly fell in love. You’ve never seen a man so happy than when he first started _watching_ her.”

“Young love,” Harry said, taking a sip of coffee. It wasn’t quite a question but Draco could hear it in his tone.

“Honestly, not that I’d really know what to look for, but I would say it was true love from the start. At least on his part anyway. She had just started to do ‘haul’ videos - you know those videos where people go shopping and show off what they bought?” Harry was nodding and Draco felt like a fool for having tried to explain it, “so he sent her some clothes to try from their latest line along with his personal information. I told him he was crazy. And apparently I know nothing about love because they are going on well over fourteen years strong now.”

“Fourteen years? And here I thought my best friends being together for almost eleven years was long.” Harry sounded impressed.

“Yeah well,” Draco mused taking a sip of coffee, “Blaise has never really done anything by halves. How did you meet your friends?”

“School. I met them on the first day and we just kinda clicked right away.” Harry shrugged. “Do you want another freebie question? That was kinda a short answer compared to your story.”

Draco considered this for a moment. ‘Did he want another question? What could he ask?’ He mulled it over a moment in silence, green eyes looking at him with an odd intensity that made his chest tighten. He suddenly wanted to ask something personal to take the heat off himself, but all he could come up with was, “Why did you decide to start writing?”

Harry closed his eyes, thinking for a moment, and took the green with him. “Okay,” he said opening them back up, “I am going to break the rules of the game and say that question is off limits for now.”

“What?” Draco asked with an edge to his voice, indignity rising up in him. It was only their second time playing and he was already breaking the rules.

“I know, but for me that is a personal story,” Harry said, “and one I would rather not reveal right now.”

Draco looked down at Harry’s shoes. The old trainers were back. He scowled.

“Hey,” Harry said, his voice far gentler then it had any right to be. “All that means is you get another one. Third time’s the charm, right?”

Draco tried to ignore the heat building inside himself and focus on another question. Another _good_ question. One he wanted to know the answer to. But the one question that kept coming to mind was, “Will you go on a proper date with me?”

It was only when Harry smiled wide that Draco realized he had asked the question out loud. 

“I thought you would never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is singing "One Foot" by WALK THE MOON - I do not take credit for the song.


	4. Blond Rum

**Blond Rum**

“Draco, dear. It’s so wonderful to have you home. You really should come around more often.”

Dinner with his parents always involved copious amounts of alcohol - typically of the rare, vintage variety. The buzz always helped with the boredom from another evening spent discussing business _or worse_.

His mother smiled at him as he poured himself his first glass of his favorite white wine from the wine cooler. He idly wondered if anyone had touched it since he had visited his parents last.

“So,” Narcissa intoned, flashing her practiced motherly smile at him, “what’s new with you, dear? Anybody special in your life?” 

Of course she would ask that, she would never dream to ask him about work or his friends or _anything_ else. Draco sighed and noticed his father listening in with mild interest. Damn his parents for pushing. Maybe if they hadn’t put all their eggs in a single baby basket they could have had a normal child.

He drank his first wine glass down to the bottom and refilled it, killing the rest of the bottle in the process. He would have to find another bottle to open down in the wine cellar. Or maybe he’d move onto the harder liquor options. His father had been bringing home a lot of craft brewed meads lately. Draco wasn’t usually one for very sweet drinks, a point Harry had commented on often during their morning coffee breaks, but the fermented honey was very tempting in that moment.

“I see you smiling.” His mother wagged her finger in his direction. He hated when she did this. She always pointed out when he had even a ghost of a smile on his face. It was awful and had the effect of making him want to hide any hint of a grin constantly. “Who’s making you smile like that?”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and schooled his expression back into a line. “No one, mum.”

She leveled a glance at him.

“Narcissa, leave the poor boy alone,” his father quipped at her, “he’s got the entire marketing arm of mTech under his command now.” Lucius turned to look at his son. “I do hope you’re keeping them together over there. Riddle was just saying the other day how there’s been some recent, shall we say, _developments_ with the latest tech team - let’s just say you want to steer clear of HR at this time-”

“Now Lucius,” Narcissa smoothly cut in, “What did we agree on regarding speaking about work at the dinner table?”

“We’re not eating yet,” Lucius reminded her, “and you shouldn’t be so resistant to discussing topics that keep you living the lifestyle you’ve become so accustomed to-”

“Okay,” Draco cut in there, not wanting them to get into it before he was good and _drunk._ “Let’s eat, shall we? What’s for dinner, mum?”

“Roasted chicken with root vegetables. Dr. Dumbledore says that cooking and eating meals at home allows for more control over portions, sugar and processed foods that can result in higher energy levels and a longer life-span…” 

Draco nodded and took a deep sip of his wine. He wondered how long this particular program would last. She seemed to be on a different diet each time he visited. At least this time it was one of the meals she was capable of making well.

“When will we get to meet her, Draco?” His mother was nothing if not persistent when she smelled blood in the water.

“Seriously mother. It’s not what you think. At all.”

His mother sighed at that.

“It’s _not,_ ” he insisted but it came out almost as a whine.

“Alright,” his father cut in, “we should eat this dinner before it gets too cold.”

That was twice his father had cut in to help rescue him from his mother’s nagging tonight. Bewildered, Draco spared a moment to wonder if he had always been a damsel in distress and just never realized it.

The thought drove him to kill his second glass of wine. It gave him an excellent excuse to head to the cellar and pick out the next option.

* * *

Draco was drunk.

Well, almost. Very close to it. He watched, slightly mesmerized by the club’s lights, as Pansy and Blaise danced in front of their VIP booth. Her hips pressed against his, short skirt swinging to the music, bodies pressing together, heat and sweat building. He had only just removed himself from their private dance floor on the sidelines of the club, which hosted an elite few who could afford to be there.

Or bribe their way in with other talents.

Abruptly the beat changed, slowed down a little. The lights spun around the club. Draco felt the bench dip as Blaise sat back down beside him and took a sip of his drink. Bottle service was the best way to ensure no one’s glass was ever dry or broken. A potentially expensive price to pay but Draco found it was well worth it.

And it was comped for them most of the time anyway.

The music picked back up slightly as Blaise leaned over to Draco, “Hey, are you ready to go? We were thinking of-” he cut himself off there. Draco decided his friend wasn’t nearly drunk enough if he couldn’t finish that sentence.

Draco nodded with a small smile, “Go on,” he gestured, “I’ll call a car.”

“You sure?” Blaise looked at him, concerned. “We could-”

“Blaise.” Draco looked him in the eye. “Go make your girlfriend happy and get out of here.”

Blaise laughed, but Draco had to strain to make out the sound over the music. “You,” he said sitting closer to Draco, “are my best mate, do you know that?”

Draco thought he might have to reevaluate his assertion of just how drunk Blaise really was. Or perhaps how drunk _he_ was if he didn’t feel like kicking Blaise’s arse for saying it out loud.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, “you too, you arse.”

“Love you too, Draco,” Pansy said in a mocking tone, cutting in to pull Blaise up and wrap her arm around his waist. “You ready?” she asked them both sweetly.

“You two go on,” Draco encouraged. “I want another drink.”

“You sure?” Pansy asked, echoing her boyfriend’s words from earlier. 

“Yeah, that’s what car-share services are for.”

“You call us if you need us to come back?”

“Yeah, I will.”

And then they were gone. Draco lifted his glass of white rum to his lips and took another sip. He wasn’t sure what had exactly sparked the “let’s go out and get wasted idea.” He blamed Blaise. The man always managed to get a VIP booth at the last minute any night of the week. But he couldn’t say that it had sounded like a bad idea at the time. The week had been rough and as icing on the fucking cake Draco hadn’t seen those green eyes again since he’d asked him out.

Draco _really_ didn’t want to admit it but it was bothering him.

“Having fun?” a voice came from above him. Draco tilted his head up and looked into green eyes. For one blissful moment he thought Harry had followed him here, until he realized the eyes were all the wrong shade.

And since when did he want Harry to stalk him anyway?

“What’s it to you?” Draco asked, irritated.

“Well excuse me,” the man replied, “I saw you sitting here, looking like an angel with that platinum hair of yours by the way, and I thought I would come over and say hello. Seeing as you’re all alone anyway.”

Of course, Draco recognized when he was being hit on. But really, what was it with men who had green eyes talking to him first for no reason whatsoever, anyhow?

Not that the first time had really been for no reason at all. And those green eyes. He thought back to his last hook-up and how wrong it had felt to look down and see blue eyes staring up at him. How long ago had that been? 

Why hadn’t he attempted to pick up anyone since?

A voice at the back of his mind tried piping up to remind him that he hadn’t tried because _his_ green eyes had promised him a date. A proper date. But Draco was just too drunk to really _care._

“You are all alone, aren’t you?” the man asked, squinting down at Draco through the haze of the lights.

Was he all alone? He certainly wasn’t _with_ anyone.

Draco decided to cut to the chase, “What do you want?” he asked, looking the man up and down.

He wasn’t bad looking. Even if his eyes weren’t exactly right.

“Search me,” the man shrugged, “I saw a sexy man from across the room and thought I would come over and say hello. It’s not my fault that your manners need some work.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. Hadn’t he heard that recently? He vaguely remembered Harry mentioning it. Draco vaguely recalled that there had been a lot more feelings attached when it had been called out the first time around.

This time all Draco felt was apathy. 

“You wanna dance anyway?” the man asked, looking Draco up and down, holding out his hand to pull him up, “What’s your name?”

“Sure,” Draco answered standing up, “and it doesn’t matter.”

The man tilted his head. “But what should I call you then?”

“Anything you want,” Draco sighed, “it won’t matter. You won’t see me again after tonight.” If he even remembered the rest of tonight in the morning.

“So that’s how it is?” the man intoned, leading them onto the dance floor, “anonymous hook-ups do it for you?”

Draco couldn’t really articulate just how much anonymous hook-ups really didn’t do _anything_ for him so he shut up and danced.

And when he came later, pressed against the wall in the back of the club’s loo under the gaze of the wrong green eyes, he felt even dirtier than he had before.

* * *

Draco came face-to-face with the _right_ green eyes - after days of not seeing them - while walking into the pub not two nights later.

“It’s nice to have you back, mate,” the redhead Draco remembered seeing with Harry the last time they had run into each other was saying, “things just aren’t the same when you’re gone, you know?”

Harry let out a laugh which stopped mid-melody when he noticed Draco standing before him, glaring daggers at him.

Who was he to be at Draco’s pub when he had promised a date and never delivered? In fact Harry just fucking disappeared on him. Draco worked not to grit his teeth. 

“Draco!” Harry smiled wide, green eyes bright as ever. “How are you?”

“Where have you been?” Draco asked, calling on all his self control not to yell.

“Sorry,” Harry replied, “I was on a small charity publishing tour. I just got back this afternoon.”

Oh. Draco didn’t know what to say to that. It’s not like they had set up a day and time for their date. It’s not like he’d asked Harry if he was going out of town. And it’s not like Harry had told him.

“I must have forgotten to mention it,” Harry read Draco like a book and smiled like nothing was the matter at all. “Draco, this is my friend, Ron Weasley,” he motioned to the redhead.

Draco held out his hand, “Pleasure, Weasley,” he said, sounding far too much like his father for any type of comfort. “Draco Malfoy.”

“Er- hi,” Weasley said in response, the tips of his ears going pink. “Nice to meet you. Finally.”

‘Finally?’ Draco gave Harry an odd look at that.

“We were just headed out to meet Hermione - Ron’s girlfriend - for some food,” Harry said by way of explanation, “Would- would you want to join us?”

Was Harry asking him on a double date before they had even been a first? Draco fought the urge to shake his head to clear the thought.

“No,” he replied, “I am actually meeting a business associate here today,” and it was true. They arranged for after-work drinks. Managing the people who wanted to network with him was a full time job in itself.

“Alright.” Harry smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning then?”

Draco watched him as he walked out of the pub, not trusting himself to do anymore than nod.


	5. Blond Flat White

**Blond Flat White**

Draco took the coward’s way out and avoided the coffee shoppe the next morning.

But one day of being caffeine deprived and having to rely on the burnt coffee in the mTech company kitchen, which was absolute shite, was enough to convince him to return to the shoppe the next day.

“Good morning, Blond Roast!” Harry was already there as Draco walked through the door.

“Excuse me?” Draco intoned as he looked Harry up and down, noticing his Converse were back today. ‘And exactly what had he called him? And was Green Eye’s hair...wet?’ A wet brunette with piercing green eyes was definitely not supposed to be part of his morning routine. Draco shook his head slightly to try and erase the thoughts of other things that he’d like to get wet-

“You are getting your usual, right?” Harry asked, “Blond roast, right? I know we’ve been on a bit of a break, but I didn’t forget that.”

‘Bit of a break, my arse,’ Draco thought. ‘Can you be on a break when you’re not even involved with someone?’

Harry was laughing and the sound snapped Draco out of his thoughts. “You’re awful quiet this morning. How do you expect us to rekindle our growing relationship if you refuse to engage?”

 _That,_ Draco decided, was a complicated concept for so early in the morning from a man with wet hair and arresting green eyes before he had even had a sip of coffee. It was ridiculous, really, how it made his chest tighten and his heart race just a little. Especially when he couldn’t even put a word or label on what the nature of his ‘relationship’ was with one Harry Potter.

He shot Potter a look. He refused to think of him as Harry before he had a steaming hot cup of molten caffeine in his hands.

“Look, I really am sorry I didn’t tell you about the tour. If I had known it would set us back this much, I would have never- well,” Harry gestured his hand in a dismissive wave, pausing to place their order before turning back to Draco. “Anyway, how have you been? What did I miss around here?”

Draco just stared at Harry. ‘Dammit - that vow didn’t last long.’

“...are you giving me the silent treatment?” Harry asked, “I might be the first to admit I probably deserve it, but it’s rather childish don’t you think? Plus, you did say ‘excuse me’ earlier so you already broke your vow of silence anyway.” Harry smiled at him. 

Draco tried to ignore the effect that smile had on him.

“Well, I know you didn’t ask, but the tour was interesting. And pretty inspiring. We were raising money for orphanages and foster programs and-”

“I bet you’re the poster child for that.” Draco was surprised he said anything at all, but Harry just smiled at his acerbic tone.

“There’s the acidic Blond Roast I know so well! I missed him. Welcome back.”

Draco felt heat rise in his chest. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be missed. He had certainly felt abandoned when Harry had disappeared, but from the way Green Eyes was acting now Draco wondered if he’d blown the whole thing out of proportion.

He knew that it certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for him.

* * *

The next morning Harry reinstated their game.

“-one question each, alright?”

They were sitting at the same table where they originally started their peculiar question exchange. Harry was enjoying his coffee with an amazing looking cinnamon muffin that made Draco’s mouth water just looking at it. He’d settled instead for a plain bagel - as they were sold out of everythings - but the shoppe had restocked on packets of organic peanut butter so Draco considered it a small price to pay. And, as always, he had his blond roast with a splash of soy milk.

Draco spread the peanut butter slowly on his bagel before taking a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “And that didn’t count as a question?”

Harry smiled. “Same as that one didn’t. You go first.”

Draco thought for a moment, but all he could think of, all he’d been able to think of since the previous morning if he was being honest with himself, was Harry’s wet hair. So he found himself asking, “Why was your hair wet yesterday?”

Harry looked at him like he had asked him why the sky was blue, but answered all the same. “I went for a swim at the gym yesterday morning and came straight here afterwards.”

“Do you swim a lot?”

Harry held up a finger. “Uh-ah. One question each, remember?”

Draco grimaced. “Make it two and you can ask me two.”

“Why Draco,” Harry said as his green eyes lit up, “are you negotiating with me?”

“Do we have a deal?” Draco asked, realizing too late that that was a question. But then, Harry’s reply had been a question too. Maybe negotiations didn’t count. 

Plus, if he could make Harry’s eyes light up like _that_ it was all worth it.

“I used to be on the swim team in high school.” Draco realized Harry was explaining. “It’s the closest feeling I have ever come to flying.” A dreamy look overtook those green eyes for just a moment before it cleared. “Did you ever play sports?”

Draco looked at him, deadpan. “Is that your question?”

“The first of the two, yes.”

“Do I _look_ like I played sports?”

Harry narrowed his eyes just slightly. “I don’t go around stereotyping people. Why don’t you just answer the question?”

Draco lowered his eyes, slightly ashamed, before he looked back up. “I really enjoyed ice skating when I was younger. My mother showed me how when I was really small, and then some of the nannies we had took me. I wanted to take lessons, so when I was seven, I finally got up the courage to ask my father for some.” 

Draco looked up. Green eyes softened slightly.

“I believe my father’s exact words were "No pansy son of mine is going to ice-skate." Then he turned to my mother and blamed her for the whole affair.”

“Oh, Draco-”

“Then when I got to middle school they made everyone enroll in an athletic club. Blaise wanted to try football. I kind of wanted to try gymnastics, but that wasn’t allowed. In the end I followed Blaise into football.” Draco blinked hard. “God, I hate football.”

Harry looked up at Draco. “Do you think you’ll ever try ice skating again now?”

Draco was slightly flabbergasted at the question. “Is that really how you’re burning your second question?”

“Just answer it.” 

Sincere green eyes tugged at Draco’s heartstrings. He found himself answering honestly.

“No.”

“No, you won’t answer it?”

“No _is_ the answer.”

Harry looked thoughtful at that. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why not?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, but your two questions are now used up. Thank you for playing.”

Harry smiled gently. “Alright then, I suppose I can concede defeat.”

‘Well, that certainly made one of them,’ Draco thought.

“But, really, I think I’m the victor anyway.”

Draco looked up at that. “What?”

“Are you free this weekend?” 

“Is that a question?”

“Do you still want that date?”

Draco’s breath drew up short at that. He did not want to admit exactly how much he wanted that date. How hard he’d been fighting himself not to bring it up after their unanticipated ‘break.’

Harry smiled. “I will take that as a yes. Let me plan it. This weekend. You and me.”

Draco thought it was a bit of an unconventional way to confirm, but it wasn’t a question. As butterflies threatened to swarm his stomach, Draco remembered that Harry had used up all his questions for the day anyway.

* * *

“Three questions today,” Draco greeted those green eyes the next morning, unsure of exactly why he was asserting this himself, “but you’re buying the coffee.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it, it just felt like a more fair trade off.

Harry laughed. “That works for me, I’ve been buying lately anyway.”

“I don’t know why,” Draco protested, “I never asked you too.”

“I know,” Harry replied, “but I felt like I had to do _something_ to make up for disappearing on you.”

‘You could have just told me you were going,’ Draco thought, ‘or not disappeared at all.’

“Do you think it’s time we exchanged numbers?” Harry asked. That caught Draco’s attention.

“Is that one of your questions?”

“Is that one of yours?”

They stared at each other for a beat, challenging. Draco found he didn’t really want to look away.

“How about this,” Draco found himself saying, “actually take me out on that date you committed to and I will give you my phone number.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” 

‘Just don’t want to risk getting stood up.’ Draco thought, ‘again.’ It wasn't really fair, but clearly he was still upset.

“So I have been told. Order the coffee.” Draco turned towards what he was coming to think of as ‘their table.’

To his own surprise Draco had started to rearrange his morning meetings so there was more time for coffee with those beautiful green eyes which, lately, seemed to be making his days a little brighter. Or maybe it was just the man behind them. Either way, Draco didn’t really want to think too deeply about the reasons behind _that_ thought. It was bad enough that he was becoming dependent on this odd spot of serenity in his day.

No, thoughts like that would only lead him to trouble.

But still, as Draco's eyes wandered over to the counter where Harry waited for their drinks - his blue jeans were loose but hugged his arse _just so_ as to be completely and utterly distracting - he couldn't help but wonder if they were already involved.

And their upcoming date was really just some odd, promised, formality.

“So,” Harry said, casually taking a seat and passing over Draco his coffee, “do you want to start or shall I?”

“How old were you when you started writing?”

Harry let out a laugh. It was bright and sharp. “I learned my alphabet when I was four.”

“No,” Draco scowled, “how old were you when you started writing books?”

“You’re wasting your second question on that?”

“You are infuriating.”

“I don’t _believe_ you.” Harry cocked his head. “And nine. It was seven pages long and involved a caterpillar, of all things, and an orphan who cared for it until it became a butterfly. I typed it up, illustrated each page and then my teacher had it bound. I might still have it - ah, somewhere,” he smiled and took a sip of his coffee. “You have one more question left.”

Draco raised up his eyebrows at the caterpillar bit, but thinking back a beat decided he had something else he’d rather ask. “Why do you put up with me, then?”

Harry’s green eyes became impossibly wide at that. They stared at Draco, as if taking him all in for the first time. When he opened his mouth to speak, his tone was casual but coupled with a sincerity Draco rarely heard. “Because you’re cute and blond, and because you don’t put up with anybody’s shite.” Harry shifted forward. “Ever stop to think that maybe I just like you?”

Well, that was an interesting development. Draco felt like there was something important he was missing but he was still too hung up on Harry’s description of him to care at the moment. He dismissed the _cute_ comment easily, but the ‘I just like you,’ played back in Draco’s head. ‘Did anyone _just like him?_ Did he even like himself? And why did it feel so wonderful hearing the words in Harry’s voice?’

Abruptly Draco’s brain caught up with himself. “That’s a question,” he smirked.

“Yeah, yeah it is,” Harry conceded, sitting back, crossing his arms and his legs, looking at Draco pointedly, waiting for a response.

“No.”

“No…” Harry looked confused.

“No, I can’t say I stopped to think ‘maybe you just like me,’” Draco said. He couldn't help the thought that followed, 'No one ever just likes me.'

“What do you mean, no one ever just likes you?” Harry asked, eyes wide.

Draco hadn’t realized he’d muttered that last bit out loud. To cover his tracks he spat out, “Is that question two, then?”

Harry nodded.

Draco sighed. ‘How to address that particular topic?’ His past relationships were non-existent to speak of in terms of ‘liking’ - they were more along the lines of closeted quick fucks and random multi-month or year-long escapades that never turned out all that well. His co-chairs and subordinates only pretended to like him for their own advancement. Blaise and Pansy liked him fine, he supposed, but they ran in the same circles of expectation - there were days when they understood him more than they liked him. His own parents didn’t even really like him - unless he was upholding their precious ‘family values,’ it felt like he was no use to them at all.

Hell, most days Draco didn’t even like himself.

“I guess when you’re exposed to a certain circle,” Draco tried to cooly explain, “your worth doesn’t come from whether anyone _truly_ likes you.”

Harry looked slightly sad at that, his green eyes cloudy. Draco wondered at that as he felt something in his chest tighten.

“I know it won’t matter much but,” Harry attempted a smile, “I like you.”

Draco felt the band in his chest snap. 

He wanted to melt into the feeling, let himself be swallowed whole by it, but he didn’t know if he could. 

So he ignored it all. “Third question,” Draco warned.

Harry’s smile didn’t falter as he slid a piece of folded scrap paper across the tabletop. “Will you meet me here this weekend?”

Draco gave him a skeptical look as he took and paper and unfolded it, reading an address he didn’t recognize followed by a date and time. He folded the note back up and pocketed it.

“Is that a yes?” Harry asked, leaning forward. 

“Is that another question?”

Harry laughed, “It’s a part of the same one as before,” he pressed, “one that you didn’t really answer I might add.”

“Yes.” Draco said, resigned but not unhappily so, “it’s a yes.”

Green eyes brightened at that, “It’s a date then.”


	6. Blond Pizza

**Blond Pizza**

Had Draco been asked about it beforehand, he would have said that the only difference between his first official date with the man behind those green eyes and their morning coffee meetings would be the amount of sex involved. 

And so he was completely taken aback when the date produced nothing of the sort at all.

The address Harry had given him turned out to be an indoor ice skating rink. The sports center was nothing impressive and so very common that Draco found himself wondering when he had abandoned his standards completely. 

Probably around the time those green eyes walked into his life.

Those same green eyes that met him at the door to the rink.

“Draco!” Harry sounded happy. “Glad you could make it. Right on time too.”

"Obviously," Draco replied, "why wouldn't I be on time?" The response came out harsher than he had intended, which only made the moment that much more uncomfortable for him.

“Well, aren’t we in a mood today?” Harry asked, a hint of a teasing grin on his face. 

Draco heaved a sigh. 'It was going to be a long date,' he thought to himself.

“C’mon,” Harry said before Draco could respond, grabbing his hand, “let’s go get skates.”

Harry’s hand was large, warm, slightly rough but soft enough, and completely unexpected. Draco’s heart was not melting. 

'It was _not_ ,' he continued to tell himself, refusing to admit he felt a spark somewhere inside him.

“You mean you want to rent skates?” Draco asked to cover up the fire building in the pit of his stomach. ‘That ice better be damn cold.’

“Well, yeah.” Harry looked back at Draco but did not stop walking towards the rental desk. “You can’t expect us to buy skates for two hours of use.”

Draco privately thought that was absolutely something he would do but he knew better than to voice that idea. Turned out it didn’t matter anyway. 

“Oh my god you do!” Harry laughed. “You totally do. How about this? We try skating today and if we feel like we want this to become a more permanent thing that we do, you can invest in some skates, okay?”

Draco had to silently concede that was probably fair. He hadn’t touched skates in well over two decades.‘Who knew if he even liked it anymore?’

Suddenly Draco felt something like nervous tension build up over the fire that had been growing. ‘Did Harry expect him to still be good at this? _Was_ he still good at this?’

Turned out he needn’t have worried too much about it because he was with Harry, who, Draco quickly realized, had probably never donned a pair of ice skates in his life. 

It was on their fifth or six lap around the rink, still hand in hand, that Harry managed to start getting the hang of it - he was stumbling less and could actually glide forward some when he managed to get the correct form.

The problem wasn’t Harry’s growing abilities, but rather it was Draco who found himself not wanting to let go of Harry’s hand. He was slightly terrified of where that thought could have possibly come from. He was never this needy.

“You know,” Harry said, turning to Draco on their seventh lap around, “I didn’t know how you would take this. I mean, I know that planning on going skating wasn’t all that original, given what you told me about your dad and all, but I just thought-“

“Hold that thought,” Draco commanded suddenly. He did not want to think about that childhood incident right now. Not with Harry hand warm in his and skates on his feet.

Draco sighed, looking up at the metal rafters on the ceiling. 

“Well I just thought, you know,” Harry continued anyway, “Christmas is coming up and there’s going to be outdoor rinks all over town and if this was fun - I mean if we enjoyed it - then you might want to go with me to one of those. In the winter.”

Draco didn’t want to think about the fire in his belly that was quickly jumping up into his throat. One thing kept repeating in his mind, ‘Green Eyes was thinking about _the_ future.’ 

“I’ve never skated before this.”

Draco smirked, “that’s clearly obvious.”

Green eyes looked at him with mild amusement. “Well, I’m just glad one of us knows what he’s doing.”

Draco privately thought Harry probably had way more a grasp on what they were doing, but he didn’t dare voice that out loud. 

“You’re smiling,” Harry said, green eyes bright. 

On instinct, Draco bit the inside of his cheek and schooled his features back to neutral. “And now you sound like my mother.”

“Is that so terrible?” Harry asked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Draco said, “who wants to be reminded of their mother on a date?”

“I wouldn’t really know,” Harry said offhandedly, “I never knew mine.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence after that.

“Should we go back to our question game? Or is that only for the coffee shoppe?” Draco asked, after the silence became too uncomfortable for his liking. A part of him felt like it should be contained to their coffee meet-ups - he was not going to label them ‘dates’ - but the parameters of their little game would give him some social structure to latch onto and not feel like he was suddenly skating on thinning ice.

Not that the ice beneath his feet was melting. He was fairly certain that was only the ice around his heart.

Draco didn’t know what to do with the feeling.

“I think we can just talk,” Harry said after a long contemplative silence, “and save the question game for our non-date dates.”

‘Oh sure, Green Eyes would label those dates’ Draco thought, conveniently ignoring the ‘non-date’ part. ‘'What would they talk about?' Draco wondered. Out loud he asked, “So, our coffee shoppe meet-ups are dates?”

“After a fashion.” Harry shrugged, moving them around the rink again. “But not like this.”

“Excuse me?”

“The coffee shoppe is fun,” Harry smiled as he spoke, “and it’s where I met you. But this-” he held up their linked hands, “is infinitely better. And you haven’t let go of my hand since we got on the ice.”

Draco recognized that it was true. He dropped Harry’s hand abruptly. The other man immediately slipped on the ice. Draco reached out to capture his wrist and pull him back up.

“You-” Harry’s face was flushed. “You didn’t let me fall.”

“Of course not.” Draco felt his cheeks heat slightly, countering his sarcastic tone. Harry smiled as Draco impulsively reached for Harry’s other wrist and started skating _backwards_ pulling the other man along with him.

For not having skated in twenty years or more, remembering how to skate backward came fairly naturally to him. He started cautiously, looking behind himself, avoiding the edges of the rink, moving smoothly. But as he increased in speed he became mesmerized by the happiness and excitement that grew in those green eyes. The smile on Harry’s face that got wider, more carefree, younger- 

-BAM!

Time slowed down as Draco hit the edge of the rink behind him, the pain sharp down his back. He opened his mouth, ‘fucking hell’ on the tip of his tongue, when suddenly warm arms encircled his waist, Harry’s broad torso pressed against his as the momentum from the crash propelled the other man forward. 

Draco froze.

It wasn’t that Draco was afraid. He'd had plenty of lovers and sexual relationships to feel comfortable with the body of another man pressed up against him. Usually it excited him - or at least excited him enough to cum - but this was entirely different.

First off, Harry was warm. And his hair was soft. And he smelled like cedar wood for some strange reason. His black sweatshirt was piling from numerous washes, and, for a blissful moment, he was pressing his cheek into Draco’s shoulder.

Draco felt his own hands move of their own accord to Harry’s back. For just a moment he felt happy.

Then reality came crashing in. 

He was hugging Harry Potter. 

In public. 

On an ice rink.

He dropped his arms at lightning speed.

Harry nuzzled his neck before pulling away.

Draco felt like he could still feel him there.

His skin tingled.

 _That_ was new.

“Ern- Earth to Draco?” Harry had been speaking but Draco wasn’t listening.

“Eh?”

“Woah, who are you and what have you done with my Blond Roast?”

Draco didn’t want to comment that he was _right there_ and _nothing had changed_ because he wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t true.

* * *

Their second official date was also set by Harry. 

It was definitely planned by Harry because there was not a snowball’s chance in hell that Draco would plan a date of take-away pizza in the park.

Though it was kind of sweet - in a very _pedestrian_ sort of way.

Their first date had ended with a _hug_ , of all things, that had made Draco tingle all over, and a promise from Harry to plan a second. The man was just lucky he hadn’t disclosed to Draco just what they would be doing beforehand.

He probably knew that if he _had_ he’d have risked Draco not even showing up.

“Do you always take dates on picnics?” Draco drawled, stretching out his legs.

Harry laughed. “What makes you think I take other people on dates?” 

Silence stretched. Green eyes stared at Draco and made him feel oddly hollow inside.

“Don’t worry,” a soft chuckle hit the air, “you’re the only one I’m dating right now. In fact, you’re the only person I’ve dated in ages.”

“That-” Draco swallowed, “that can’t be true.”

Harry shrugged. “Ask my friends if you want confirmation. It’s rare that someone captures my attention. Haven’t been on a proper date in,” he paused considering, “well, a while.”

Draco tried to process that bit of information. 

“In fact, the last person I dated was a woman. So, it’s actually been even longer since I’ve been on a date with a bloke.”

Draco’s brain worked overtime to process _that_ information.

“You’re not gay?”

“Bi is a thing.”

‘True, but-’ “I tried being bi to please my family. It didn’t work out for me,” Draco found himself confessing. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, sincere green eyes met his, “no one should ever have to try to be something they’re not.”

If it were anybody else who said that, Draco would have laughed. But somehow when Harry said it, it felt like it might be the truth.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

“Hey,” Harry called, reaching out to grab Draco’s forearm, “you okay?”

“Yeah.” Draco opened his eyes. That was a mistake. Concerned green eyes stared at him.

“Alright,” Harry said, removing his hand. 

Draco found himself wanting him to put it back.

“Want some pizza?”

Were Harry anybody else, some nameless, faceless, man in a club, Draco would have said he was hungry for something else. But this was Harry. And from day one this man with his bright green eyes had cast some weird spell over Draco that made him act in ways he never had before. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of the change.

“I don’t do dairy,” Draco said cooly.

“I know.” Harry looked at him seriously. “That’s why I ordered pizza with vegan cheese.”

 _That_ shocked Draco to attention. “You did?”

Harry nodded.

“Did we- have we ever talked about that?” Draco tried not to wince as he could hear his voice tick up nearly an octave in surprise, suddenly painfully aware that they _hadn’t_.

“No.” Harry laughed. “But you take soy milk in your coffee and you never put cream cheese on your bagels. I figured either you were either lactose intolerant or on some weird strict diet. Either way, it still eliminated regular mozzarella.”

“What about you?” Draco gave him a skeptical look despite the fluttering building in his stomach at just how fucking _nice_ that gesture was.

“You’ll find I’m very vegan friendly.” Green Eyes smiled kindly. “And not terribly picky about what I eat. If it tastes good, I’m game.” As if to prove the point he took out a piece of pizza from the box and took a bite. “Yum,” he hummed, the sound going straight down Draco’s spine and to his cock in a way he was certain Harry had _not_ intended. “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?”

Draco’s mouth watered as suddenly food sounded like an excellent distraction. “Alright, hand me a slice.”

The cheese was surprisingly melty and good for a vegan imitation and the tomatoes in the sauce tasted fresh. The dough was soft and the whole of the pizza had a homemade quality that oddly reminded Draco of Harry - hot and simple by design, but flavorful and complex once he took a bite.

‘Not that he would know from experience just yet,' he thought as his mind wandered. 'Damn it. When had he become such a poet?’

“How is it?” Harry asked.

“Good.” Draco felt the corners of his lips turn up slightly. “Surprisingly good. I don’t even usually _like_ vegan cheese.”

Harry gave him a bright smile.

Draco felt his heart melt _like the fucking cheese._

‘God, when have I become such a sap?’


	7. Blond Latte

**Blond Latte**

“Are you asexual as well as bi?”

“Is that your question this morning?”

“Are we back to one question?”

The two men stared at each other. Like an overpowering tide, Draco thought he would drown in those eyes.

But two dates and an untold number of coffee meetings in and they still hadn’t even so much as kissed. Which made Draco wonder. “So, are you?” he asked again.

“No, just bi.”

“Well then, why haven’t you made a move yet?”

“Huh?”

“We’re two official dates in and you still haven’t so much as tried to kiss me! Am I _that_ repulsive to you?”

Harry's laughter broke through Draco’s anger, though he would loathe to admit it. _“Repulsive?_ Far from it.”

“Then- then why?” Draco stuttered. He could hear the whine in his own voice. He nearly winced at the sound. 

Harry didn’t seem to mind, he just smiled, “Honestly? You’ve got such a, er-, hard exterior that I thought you would push me away.”

Draco’s jaw almost dropped open at that.

 _Almost._ He caught it just in time.

“But you seem to be so,” Draco paused, looking for the right word, “so-”

“Happy and well-adjusted?” Harry supplied with a sigh, curling in slightly on himself. “Let’s just say I’ve done a lot of hard work to get here. Writing helps me. A lot. There have been stretches of time where, well, it really saved my life - mostly, because it really only,” green eyes glanced quickly around the coffee shoppe, as if checking to see if anyone besides Draco was listening in, “well, it kept me occupied with something _healthier_ when I easily could have had other ways to deal with the aspects of myself I wanted to defeat.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to tell me why you started writing children’s books?”

Harry looked up at him and smiled. “Ah - but you never asked me why I started writing _children’s_ books.”

Draco blushed. He actually blushed. It was the truth, he’d been called out, and he actually felt his cheeks heat up.

‘My how the mighty have fallen.’

Draco hoped he could renovate the bottom of the well before it killed him.

“I started writing children’s books when I realized I wasn’t going to have any of my own.”

 _That_ was an interesting revelation. Enough to make Draco look up anyway. The intensity that he found in those green eyes was a little shocking.

“There’s a part of me that’s always wanted a family. You know - with never having one growing up.” Harry paused here and Draco squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation.

‘Since when did he squirm? What was _wrong_ with him lately?’

“My best mate, Ron - you met him that one time, remember?” Harry looked at Draco for confirmation before continuing. “He comes from a huge family. When I first met them it was a little overwhelming, but overall it cemented that I wanted something like that. A built-in support system.”

Draco wasn’t sure he should be the one Harry was confessing this to. His own family dynamic was anything but supportive.

‘It was more on the level of narcissistic abuse.’

“So, I,” Harry continued, green eyes suddenly looking ashamed, “I tried, you know? I was young, and thought I was in love. I proposed to my high school sweetheart, and we were engaged to be married, when we found out that I’m infertile. Er - shoot blanks. Or however you want to say it. I think I’ve heard every phrase in the book at this point.” He tried to smile at that, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“She, my ex- that is, she didn’t like this. It devastated her and it created a rift between us. We ended up splitting. We’re still friendly, I suppose, but it’s not the same. She’s married to a nice bloke and has three kids now, and I-” Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which incidentally didn’t seem so messy today. Draco couldn’t help but remember how _soft_ it had been at the skating rink.

“You write.” Draco supplied solemnly.

That was _it_ \- Draco was officially checking himself into the loony bin before going to work.

“I write,” Harry smiled a genuine grin that lit up his eyes.

“Well, good therapy session,” Draco drawled, slightly irritated, “I will be sure to send you the bill-”

“Will taking you out on a third date cover it?” Harry interrupted.

“Only if I plan it.”

And goddammit, if Draco wasn’t going to pick the nicest, most expensive place he could find.

“Even better,” Harry smiled. 

‘Entirely too trusting.’

Draco came up short at that. That was exactly the problem. Harry was entirely too trusting. Nobody had ever trusted Draco with information as freely as he seemed to. 

No, that didn’t make Draco’s heart race and his palm sweat.

And it definitely didn’t make him feel like he was flying.

* * *

The next time Draco saw Harry it was two days later and he was _ready_.

Walking over to where Harry was sitting and typing on his laptop, his coffee already purchased looking like he'd been camped out there for hours. "Here," Draco said and plunked down a crisp white envelope onto the table, "meet me there this weekend."

Green eyes looked up at him in happy surprise, but Harry’s slow reach for the envelope said otherwise. “Is this, date three?” he asked, almost cautiously.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “If you have to ask, then maybe it isn’t.” 

Heart sinking for some reason he refused to name, Draco turned to the counter to get his coffee. 

When he walked back by Harry's table, which oddly wasn't their usual spot but instead a table near the counter where the barista set their drinks - Draco pointedly ignored the slight hurt he felt at something as small as that - he felt Harry grab his wrist.

“Hey,” he said, “I’m sorry. I’ll be there.”

Draco looked down at the green eyes staring up at him as if sincerely apologizing.

Draco suddenly felt like he was recovering from a long run.

“You better be,” Draco gritted out.

He didn’t know why but he’d gone out of his way to pick a place he thought Harry might actually like. And not break his bank account.

Not that Draco really knew how much money Harry had.

And it was not like Draco couldn’t afford it if it came down to that.

“I will be.” Harry smiled, completely ignoring Draco’s acidic tone. “I want to be. I’m just - my publisher has me on this deadline. I’ve been working since 5am.”

"5am?" Draco asked, unwilling to accept that anyone would willingly work that early. 'Who in the bloody hell got up that early?'

Harry nodded. “I tend to do my best writing in the early mornings. And, since I know you didn’t mean for that to be your question for today, I will let it slide.”

“How generous of you,” Draco gritted out, taking a seat across from Harry but deliberately turning his body to face the rest of the coffee shoppe.

Harry laughed at his sarcasm. “You’re such a wonderful git sometimes, you know that?”

“Charmer, I see.” Draco drawled.

He was deliberately going to ignore the fact that, yes, in fact, Harry certainly was.

“Why, Draco, did you just give me a compliment?” Green eyes looked pleased. “Wait - don’t answer that. That is not my question. And either way that’s how I am going to take it anyway so it doesn’t matter.”

Draco grumbled into his coffee to stop himself from blushing.

“Blond Roast just needed his coffee to make him as sweet as a blond latte.”

It was not phrased as a question and it caused tingles to travel down Draco’s spine. It wasn’t an entirely familiar sensation but he found it was becoming more so the more he was around this man.

To Draco it felt like a slow brand of new torture. This was why he preferred the quick release of a fast, anonymous fuck. ‘So why was he still here and trying so hard?’

“Where were you yesterday?” Harry didn’t sound mad, just concerned. “I missed you.”

And _there_ it was.

Draco’s heart was not melting. He had not spent the entire previous day in a foul mood because he couldn’t get his coffee. He hadn’t been thinking of Harry all day and figuring out where they could go for their date to make up for the fact that those green eyes hadn’t looked at him all day.

_He had not._

“Didn’t you miss me?”

It was with those words, in Harry’s voice, that Draco realized his denial could only extend so far. The walls had already started to fracture. Draco recognized the dam was bound to break at some point.

But it wouldn’t be today.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

Dammit, Harry hadn’t even paused to consider it. Draco was stuck, bound by the stupid rules of a stupid game by a stupid man who wouldn’t even _kiss_ him.

“If I said yes, what would I get in exchange?”

Harry shook his head. “This is not a negotiation. Just tell me the truth. I can handle it.” His small smile was somehow blinding.

“Oh?” Draco felt the fire burning inside him, burning behind his eyes, in his chest, down to his toes. “You can handle it? Well, _Harry,_ I don’t know if I can handle it. Maybe I did miss you. Perhaps I wanted to see you but I’m the bloody fucking CMO of mTech and when duty calls I have to tend to it. Maybe I thought of nothing but you all day long. And maybe now, sitting here at our wrong table with your laptop between us, wondering why you won’t even _kiss_ me when you say you _miss_ me-”

Draco would have been more than a little shocked by his outburst if, at that exact moment, Harry’s lips hadn’t crashed down upon his own.

It was awkward, and there was a table and a laptop in between them, and the angle was off, but it was warm and soft and smelled of cedar and there was Harry’s hand on his cheek.

It was their first kiss.

And, judging by the tingling of his lips and how hard his heart was beating, it might be one of Draco’s best kisses _ever._

Harry pulled back and shut his laptop with one hand, his other never moving from Draco’s cheek. Warm green eyes looked into Draco’s as his thumb gently rubbed back and forth. “I missed you too.”

Draco already knew this information but suddenly it felt like something new now. Heat pooled in his stomach.

Draco's cheeks dusted pink. 'Well that was unexpected.' He tried to ground himself before responding, "I'm sexy all the time."

Harry laughed. “I don’t think I can deny that.” His hand rubbed Draco’s cheek one more time before he pulled it away. 

Draco immediately missed the warmth. He wanted to reach over and pull that hand back.

But he’d already embarrassed himself enough.

“I trust you'll have no problem kissing me from now on.” Draco made it a statement deliberately.

Harry muttered an answer anyway, “I don’t really know why I ever stopped myself to begin with.”

It was soft and somehow self-deprecating instead of insulting to Draco. It almost made Draco feel a little sad.

“Prove it.” Draco had to regain control.

Harry stood up and walked around the table, reaching out to pull Draco to his feet. He put his hand on Draco’s lower back and his other came up to Draco’s cheek again before he leaned forward and tentatively pushed their lips together with much less force than the first kiss but no less passion.

Draco felt himself melt into the kiss. The feeling of Harry’s hand on his back, soft lips on his, the chasteness of it all - so different from the hard ruthless kisses he sometimes received from his conquests at the clubs. This was all heart and it made Draco’s fucking _toes_ warm and his head spin and his knees buckle and it was over far, far too soon.

When they pulled back from each other, Draco fought the urge to pull Harry back for another. He stopped himself with the reminder of where he _was._

The coffee shoppe was not exactly the club after all.

‘Decorum, Draco,’ the voice in his head sounded oddly like his father. He didn’t like it. It didn’t mix well with the tingling all over the body and the warmth that seemed to be exploding outward from the center of his chest like a firework.

He ignored the fact that he compared the kiss to a firework. 

“You are really a good kisser,” Harry said with a smile on his face. He lowered his hand, resting it on the back of Draco's neck.

Draco wanted to say the same. Wanted to say _anything._ But he opened his mouth and nothing came out. 

He was actually kissed speechless.

To cover his tracks he leaned forward and kissed Harry for a third time, hearing Harry’s voice in his head from weeks ago whispering ‘third time’s the charm right?’ It pinged around in his head as he pressed their lips together, pressing a little harder, sensuously requesting entrance with his tongue, as the fire of the words spread down his veins when, for a glorious moment, Harry opened his mouth to him and they connected deeper.

Harry tasted like sweet coffee and something else Draco couldn’t quite name but wanted _more_ of, intoxicating and wonderful and- over all too soon.

Green eyes were looking at Draco like he was magical, and his hand was still on the back of Draco’s neck. 

Draco wanted to lean forward and kiss those lips again. Or pull Harry close and hug him or just hold him for a while. Draco wasn’t even sure he knew _how_ to do that last one, or where the thought had even _come_ from, but he _wanted_ it.

And he was accustomed to getting what he wanted.

Even if he didn’t know what he wanted. And there were a lot of parts of his life where he really, truly, honestly, didn’t know what he wanted.

But he wanted _this,_ even if he didn’t fully know what _this_ was. If this were a club, he’d drag the man with green eyes into the loo and have his wicked way with him.

But this was the coffee shoppe and this was Harry and so it would all have to wait.

Draco was too warm to care.


	8. Blond Brownie

**Blond Brownie**

“Who is he?” Blaise asked Draco bluntly the next time they met in the pub. Draco had only just walked into the pub and already Blaise had picked up on his mood. He’d chosen to say nothing and ignored his friend, which had never solved anything but had bought him a few more moments of peace.

Since their first kiss, Draco had encountered Harry twice more, each meeting ending with an additional sweet kiss that had sent Draco into the rest of his day with his head spinning and his lips tingling and, try as he might to hide it, a slight smile on his face.

‘What was Harry doing to him?’

Dealing with Blaise’s teasing was bad enough, but he didn’t even want to think of the awkward conversation he would have to have with his parents should rumor spread that he was dating someone. ‘He absolutely was _not_ dating someone,’ he’d repeatedly told himself. Still, he’d decided that it was best to stay far away from his parents until he could get his feelings under control.

Being with Harry - though he still wasn’t sure if he was exactly _with_ Harry - had opened the floodgates to a thought pattern Draco thought he’d long buried. It wasn’t that Draco didn’t have feelings - he had _lots_ of emotions - but they were typically of the irritated, frustrated, dissatisfied variety. He’d long ago locked away any of the happy, bright, and kind feelings that left him fuzzy and warm.

But Harry had made him feel warm.

It was almost a frightening revelation that contact with this man could make him feel like he was seven-years-old again. That thought was made even more concerning due to the fact that the things he wanted to do with this man were decidedly more adult-themed.

He had just arrived at the restaurant for his planned date with Harry, and he was no closer to figuring any of these thoughts out.

The Italian Steakhouse was more crowded than Draco thought it would be, even for a weekend night.

It wasn’t a problem as he’d called ahead and ensured their reservation before he even gave Harry the envelope – he refused to think of it as an invitation – but the amount of people still surprised him and put him on guard as he was led to their table. Green eyes were waiting for him there.

“What’s good here?”

The question snapped Draco out of his thoughts, as he turned to see green eyes squinting at the menu from behind his glasses.

Draco didn't know why the man even bothered to wear glasses if he still needed to squint. "Would I take you somewhere that has something bad on the menu?"

Harry looked up at him at that and laughed. “Posh as ever, aren’t you?”

It didn’t exactly sound like an insult, but Draco narrowed his eyes all the same, “I may be posh, but at least I can plan something better than a picnic in the park.”

“A picnic in the park was romantic,” Harry cheerfully defended, “and you liked it, even if you won’t admit it.”

Somewhere, deep inside himself, Draco had to concede that Harry was right.

By the time they ordered some food, along with a glass of white wine for Draco and an IPA for Harry, the pair settled into an oddly reassuring pattern that resembled their morning coffee meetups, but with the added benefit of Draco feeling calmer from the wine. Much like how the caffeine from coffee in the morning settled his mind and allowed him to relax some, the wine allowed portions of himself to get swept up in the discussion as it bounced from topic to topic as Draco learned a little more about the man sitting in front of him. The man who was now proving to be quite the distraction. 'Maybe Harry had gotten it right with planning physical activities for their first few dates,' Draco mused to himself as he did his best to hide his growing arousal.

That last thought left him no better off than where he started.

And there was another problem too, besides the obviously growing one, in that despite the two of them now being in Draco’s element, he didn’t know what to _do_. When they were in the coffee shoppe, or ice skating, or on a bloody _picnic,_ Draco could easily hide behind his sarcasm and natural distaste for the environment so clearly outside of his comfort zone. But here in his world, where he felt relatively at ease and knew the rules of the game, he should feel more in control. Instead, just like always, it felt like Harry still held all the cards.

He looked down at his half-eaten grilled sea bass.

Harry had by-passed the lasagna he’d clearly been eyeing on the menu and ordered the osso-bucco instead. “I won’t order something with cheese if you can’t have it,” he’d insisted, “this way you can try some if you want.” Draco wondered if that then extrapolated out to mean he was going to avoid cheese for the rest of his life, or if this _relationship_ was merely a passing phase of some sort. 

The first option was a commitment he didn’t know that he’d even been _considering_.

The second option made his stomach sour.

And he still didn’t know if this was a _relationship_.

It all made his head spin.

“Draco, are you okay?” Concerned green eyes were looking at him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His sneer was back.

“Well for one,” Harry said, smiling kindly, “you’ve hardly touched your fish. And for two, I have been talking about my first publishing deal and you haven’t shut me up yet.”

“Why would I shut you up about _that?”_ Draco took a sip of wine. He was used to discussions surrounding career and business - it was possibly the most common topic in his life.

Harry shrugged. “Most people find it boring. Especially since it’s a fairly straightforward story.”

“Not everyone knows their editor beforehand,” Draco reminded, recalling that Harry’s editor was a girl named Luna who had been his friend from school, “it’s easier to get a book deal that way.”

“I suppose,” Harry replied, “but there was a bit more to it than that.” He peered at Draco, “Did you always want to be in marketing?”

“No, I never did.” 

Draco was taken aback by his own honesty. 'What in holy hell had possessed him to admit that?' He watched Harry’s face fall and green eyes cloud slightly, but it was only for the briefest moment before they cleared.

“Right then, so why did you go into it?”

“Family expectations.”

“Er-okay. Right then. What would you do if you didn’t have any of those?”

Harry asked this like it was easy. And maybe to him it was. But Draco had never known a world where he wasn't held to some metric of what success was. Surpassing them was expected and part of the package deal. Going to Uni was really only the one thing he’d ever really done for himself, and even that resulted in better qualifications for his gilded career life. 

‘What _would_ he do if he didn’t have any expectations?’ 

‘Would he even have a reason to live if not being told what he should do by others?’ To be free from the pressure of others would also leave him to do whatever he wanted without having anyone watching him. At least if he achieved something they could pretend to care.

They could pretend like they loved him.

He could believe them when they said they’d missed him.

But sitting in front of him, right now, was a man who did say he missed him. Several times actually. And he had sounded sincere about it. All without a single expectation of Draco. He didn’t even ask him to curb aspects of his personality that typically drove away others.

This was all shocking to Draco’s system. It made him feel restless, slightly nervous and kind of clammy.

To say it was strange was an understatement. 

“Well?” Harry asked again, as Draco worked to get his racing mind under control.

“I always liked chemistry. Baking, too. I was good at both in high school,” Draco answered slowly, “But mostly I enjoyed Physics. I actually took a couple advanced Physics classes for electives during my time at University. It was challenging, in a good way.”

“Why didn’t you study that then?”

“My parents wanted me to skip Uni altogether and just start working. The level at which they were going to insert me into at mTech didn’t require that I have an advanced degree when I had passed high school with honors and had a predetermined role in the company. They originally slated me for CTO but then the trajectory changed when mTech had to hide a few, _unsavory_ , situations and suddenly it was more,” Draco paused and gulped down some wine, “ _-convenient_ for me to disappear for a few years into an advanced degree then to walk into the company blind.” He took another sip of wine. “I wanted to go for four years and then get my advanced degree, but my father was insistent I get something at a faster pace and join the board immediately.” Draco looked up at Harry. “I didn’t know if I would get another shot at it at the time, so I opted to earn my bachelors in management and an MBA at the same time.”

Green eyes looked at him with some measure of surprise. “That might be the most information you’ve ever told me in one go.”

“That might be the most complex question you’ve ever asked.” Draco glared back. 

“Wait-” Harry smiled softly. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I’m happy you feel like you can share. I want to know these things about you.”

Draco didn’t want to examine exactly why that made his stomach feel full of hot, molten lava.

“You know you could always go back.”

It was not a question but Draco nodded anyway.

No one would be more surprised by the action of agreement than him. If Draco really thought about it there was no way in hell he could go back. He’d started his first round a semester late and that had been difficult enough. Now he was too old, and besides, unless something catastrophic happened, his father wouldn’t approve of him going back to his little ‘experiments’.

It didn’t matter if he found the cure for _cancer_ \- if his father didn’t understand it, it wasn’t supported. 

Dinner was certainly morphing into a strange mixture of emotions, which only added to the growing list of complications that came from simply being around the other man. Draco didn't know how to feel about that, or anything else that involved Harry for that matter.

Draco forced himself to take another bite of fish.

By the time the waitress came by and asked if the pair would like dessert, Draco was three glasses of wine and most of his grilled-sea bass down. He had even sampled a bite of Harry’s dish, though he had tried to wait to make sure the other man was completely finished so he would be eating what would essentially become leftovers if not consumed.

He should have known Harry would be a ‘clean-plate’ person.

They forewent dessert. With dinner complete they wandered back out into the crisp air.

“Thank you for dinner,” Harry said with a smile.

“You paid,” Draco jeered in reminder.

“Yeah, but you picked and gave me the pleasure of your company.” Harry smiled, taking Draco’s hand. “Where to next?”

As it happened, Draco had thought of potentially going to a nearby bar, but he was second guessing that option now that he felt slightly buzzed, full, and warm. He looked down at their interconnected hands.

“Come back to my place.”

It wasn’t a question, but it also hadn’t been in the plan. 

Draco hadn’t invited anyone over to his place in years, at least not for reasons of the carnal variety, preferring to keep his sexual escapades separate from his home. But the thought of taking Harry back to his place, anxiety producing as it may be, was also something he didn’t want to deny. If he was going to make green eyes moan and wither beneath him, as he _so_ wanted to, he wanted it to be on _his_ bed, on _his_ clean sheets, in _his_ room, with _him_. Where he felt like he had some modicum of control. It would not be back at Harry’s flat where god-knows-what awaited him. It was rare he thought past a fast fuck, but he knew with Harry things would have to be different. 

There was even a part of him that would settle for just a make out session on the couch, if he had to.

‘Christ, he had it _bad.’_

Draco stepped back, trying to think. ‘What was it about Harry, besides the obvious physical attraction of course, that made all things just _so much better?’_

He couldn’t fully draw up an answer because his brain caught up to the present and realized that Harry was speaking.

“-and are you sure you want me to know where you _live_?”

Leave it to Harry to supply him with yet another reason he didn’t typically bring his conquests home. But Harry’s voice was light and he was _laughing_ , but it was a kind laugh, light as air, and his voice was teasing.

“Don’t answer that,” he said, leaning over and kissing Draco on the side of his mouth, “dessert at your place sounds great.”

Draco couldn’t recall mentioning anything about dessert. 

Though maybe Harry meant it to have a double meaning. He searched those green eyes for clues but all he could see was mirth and something along the lines of _joy_ in them.

Draco had gotten used to seeing Harry happy, but he wasn’t used to being the cause of joy in others. It made his stomach flip and a fire build that threatened to melt his icy walls.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Concerned green eyes looked into his. “Today feels like instead of my normal Blond Roast, someone handed me a blond, vanilla, soy-latte by mistake.” A hand came up to caress Draco’s cheek, warm and sufficiently distracting.

“Wouldn't that have more flavor?” Draco tried to glare back at him. “And besides there’s nothing vanilla about me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know that yet, would I?” Harry teased back.

Draco tried not to balk at the closest thing to a sex joke he’d ever heard Green Eyes make.

“Maybe I can find out.” Harry’s voice was hushed and husky in a way Draco had never heard before as he leaned in and kissed him seductively on the lips.

Draco found himself melting into the kiss, his legs feeling like jello beneath him as he forced himself to remain standing and wished he had some magical means to teleport them back to his bedroom so he could and skip right to the part where they were pressed together and moving as one. Truly Draco didn’t even know why he cared so much - were this anyone else he would have no problem dragging them into the bathroom stall and locking the door.

But this was Green Eyes.

So, when Harry pulled away, breathless and with a small hint of red on his cheeks, Draco pulled out his phone and called a car.

Waiting for their ride to show felt shorter with Harry’s lips on his, and the twenty minute ride back to his place would have been torturous if it wasn’t for Harry pressed up against him in the back seat, occasionally, tentatively at first, resting his hand on Draco’s thigh or tracing shapes on his hand or tucking his head on Draco’s shoulder…

Draco had never really liked the clingy type before, but damn if Harry didn’t smell amazing, didn’t feel so good, didn’t act so _cute-_

Harry gave no reaction to the opulent nature of the building as they rode the elevator up to Draco’s penthouse. He didn’t even make any mention of its proximity to the coffee shoppe. He had only smiled kindly at the doorman who greeted them with his traditional “Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy.” He didn’t comment when Draco let go of his hand to insert a key so the elevator opened directly into his apartment.

Green eyes did widen, however, when the elevator doors closed and Draco's large open kitchen and living room came into view. The white curtains were drawn on the panoramic windows - as they were set to automatically do at this time of night unless Draco chose to reset them - but the silver and white kitchen, the light grey floors, the dark green leather couches and the silver coffee table, could be seen reflected back in Harry’s eyes as he took in his new surroundings.

Draco gritted his teeth, waiting for some kind of remark. 

“Too much dark green,” his mother had said when he’d set the place up.

“Your walls are too white,” Blaise had told him once.

Least with Blaise Draco could retaliate. With his mother he simply pressed on silently. She had to be aware that he would do what he wanted to at this point anyway. Her complaint had to be a mere formality for her to offer her unsolicited opinion.

“Your place is amazing.” Harry looked at him, wide eyed. “You’re going to make me self conscious if you ever come back to mine.”

Draco’s suspicions on Harry’s place were suddenly confirmed. But he had _some_ manners. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Harry laughed. “No, it’s not, but it’s certainly more packed than yours. Far less modern, more bookshelves, and lots more random knick-knacks.” He shrugged. “And lots more golds and browns.”

“Do you want something to drink?” Draco asked, moving towards the kitchen. Harry caught him by the wrist.

“No.” Harry moved to stand in front of Draco. “I want you.”

And then Harry’s lips were on his, pressing softly at first but with a determination that grew as Draco opened his mouth to him. The kiss became frantic as they both sought more, wanting to get closer. Wanting to move faster.

Draco wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t recognize when he was falling into old patterns and he tried to tell himself to slow down. But he was half-hard and Harry was driving him crazy with _want_ as the feel of those lips on his, kissing him in his own home, was turning his stomach into some kind of unrecognizable goo that he felt he had to get some control over.

Harry gently ran his hand down Draco’s back, kissing him as he cupped his arse through his black skinny jeans. Draco’s arms wrapped around Harry, pulling him closer to try and kiss him with more force. But Harry wouldn't let him.

“What’s the rush?” Harry whispered, pulling back and running his hand through Draco’s hair and behind his ear. “We have all night.”

Draco had never had a lover who wanted to make _anything_ last all night with him. Or perhaps it was the other way around. But that was not what crossed his mind when Harry said those magic words. Instead Draco wanted to counter that if they moved fast they would each have all night to cum multiple times, following up round one with rounds two and three and maybe even four if he could handle it. But looking into those green eyes, Draco realized that maybe, just maybe, Harry actually meant they had _all night._ That he would be there in the morning when Draco woke up. That he wanted to stay with Draco regardless of if they ended up sleeping together or not.

The thought somehow, impossibly, made him even harder.

It wasn’t just that he wasn’t used to his previous lovers caring like this, Draco decided, it was that he didn’t know what to do when someone _did_.

It was while Draco was having that thought that Harry took control, pushing them back onto Draco’s couch, kissing him harder and causing Draco to let out a moan. The sound reverberated throughout the quiet space and was soon joined by a groan from Harry as the kissing continued. Harry pushed himself fully against Draco so their cocks lined up, separated only by their jeans and boxers. Draco felt Harry against him and couldn't stop his racing mind from circling around the thought that Green Eyes was hard for him. Not only that, but he was being kissed as if Harry’s life depended on it.

Like he _loved_ Draco.

The thought ripped through Draco’s entire body, sending his head buzzing and his toes aflame. He moved his hand down to unfasten the belt buckle holding up Harry’s jeans, keeping his other hand firmly pressed to Harry’s back until the challenge became too great and he had to employ both of his hands to yank at the _fucking_ leather and metal to unlatch them. Task complete, he started work on Harry’s jean button, frantically working it open, revealing his boxers underneath. Draco could feel the warmth radiating there, from the hard cock mere millimeters from his fingertips, as he teased Harry over the fabric.

“Oh,” Harry moaned, “that, yes, that, _Draco_.”

Draco didn’t know what to do with a moan he’d solicited from a mere brushing of his fingers over fabric but he felt it resonate inside him like a bell all the same - traveling straight from his heart to his cock. He yanked Harry’s jeans down and reached around to feel his arse, fit and hard muscles under his fingers. So much firmer than he might have expected for the baggy trousers Harry wore.

He would have to fix that.

Then again, maybe it was worth Harry not advertising to keep this treasure all to himself.

Harry, still kissing him, reached his hands down to pull up on Draco’s sweater. Draco found he had to move his hands to continue pulling it off over his head. Looking down at his pale torso for a brief moment, it dawned on Draco that he could not recall the last time he’d taken his shirt off to have sex - it had certainly been a while. But as Harry reached up to twist Draco’s right nipple between his fingertips, Draco had to wonder why the hell he’d ever thought to neglect this part of his body. He arched up into the touch that felt so good.

Draco didn’t even know his nipples could be that sensitive.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, pulling away for the briefest of seconds, “you like that?” 

His voice sounded sexy and the dim light made Harry look almost golden. Draco felt like putty under those skilled hands. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I do.”

The truth of his words hung in the air as Harry reclaimed his lips. The passionate kisses rolled over Draco’s body as Harry tortured him, running his fingers up and down Draco’s stomach and grazing his hips which caused Draco to jump.

“Sensitive?” Harry breathed out, his voice holding something like awe, as he lowered himself to sensuously lick Draco’s hip, causing shivers to travel up the blond’s spine.

Draco felt like he had died and gone to heaven and Harry hadn’t even touched his cock. He didn’t know sex could even be like this.

Not wanting to ruin the moment but knowing he wanted, _needed_ , more, Draco hooked his arms under Harry’s and pulled him back up, kissing his lips again with fervor before pulling back, “Bed.” he directed, the word feeling foreign and almost heavy on his tongue.

Harry pulled back. “Lead the way,” he said, holding out his hand to Draco to pull him up off the couch.

Their fingers interlaced and they moved down the hallway, Draco leading them towards his room - all the while distracted by Harry’s warm hand in his, the pattern of his breathing, the fact that they were actually doing this, and that Harry was taking as much charge, if not more, than he was.

The balance was kind of sexy.

They barely moved past the doorframe of the bedroom when Harry’s lips were on his again. Draco melted into the kiss as he was marched backwards toward the bed, where his knees hit the long, upholstered bench that sat at the end of the mattress.

“Oh, sorry.” Harry looked down. “Didn’t mean to-”

Draco shut him up by standing back up and reclaiming his lips, turning them around so he was pushing Harry back toward the side of the bed, pressing him down into the soft, clean comforter, which pillowed like a cloud beneath them as they leaned on it. Draco took control and kissed Harry's red lips deeply and longingly. He slipped his hands under Harry’s white shirt and tugged up, a little roughly and with some urgency, but it got stuck as Harry pressed his back down into the bed, not taking the cue to arch up.

“Shite,” Harry said just as Draco muttered “Shirt." Their voices sounded equally urgent. It was, of course, Harry who laughed first, reaching down to tug his shirt up over his head.

“Better?” he asked with a smile, his eyes bright green and the sexy sight of his bare torso and that smile were ravaging Draco on the inside.

He hoped his outside was slightly more composed, but he doubted it.

In an attempt to hide his fraying seams, Draco leaned down and reclaimed Harry’s lips quickly before pulling back and kneeling by the side of the bed, yanking Harry’s boxer-briefs down as he did so.

Before moving in, Draco took a moment to admire his prize. Harry’s cock stood at attention in front of his face, thick and hot, with beads of precum leaking from the tip. Draco felt something inside him shift as he moved forward to take a broad lick up the shaft, lapping at the salty precum that pooled there, before taking him down to the hilt. Sucking and savoring Harry’s unique flavor, slightly bitter and sweet, not unlike coffee, mixed with a hint of salt. Draco was accustomed to making his club conquests cum quickly, but in this case he found himself wanting to relish the flavor and elongate the moment to continue to feel Harry shudder beneath him.

Harry’s labored breathing hit his ears, his moans accosting Draco’s senses nearly as much as his cock did, driving Draco’s dick to press painfully against the front of his jeans. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d been this painfully hard, but he ignored it for a minute longer, instead taking an extra moment to tease Harry, circling the tip with his tongue as he ran his hand down the other man’s inner thigh, taking care, for the first time in years, to not leave any red marks behind on Harry’s skin.

Harry’s hand came to rest against the back of Draco’s head, entangling his fingers there for a moment, before indicating to Draco to come up. “Ah- Draco, you keep that up-” Harry’s voice was chopping as the warning worked the way out his mouth. “I- I’ll cum-”

Were they in a club, Draco would have continued to suck. He would have rolled Harry’s balls in his hands and let him spill his seed down the back of his throat and taste him on his tongue for the rest of the night. But they weren’t in a club, and Harry had given him the warning, and suddenly Draco wanted so much _more_. 

He pulled his lips off Harry’s cock and moved back up to kiss him soundly. Their bare torsos pressed together as the warmth of Harry’s mouth claiming Draco’s rivaling the warmth of his cock. Draco reached down to unfasten his jeans, fumbling slightly, his natural grace only reaching so far.

“Let me help,” Harry whispered, reaching up to run his hand through Draco’s hair while the other traced patterns on his stomach before both moved to his waistband to free Draco's cock.

Draco barely felt the cold air before Harry’s hand covered him, tentatively stroking upwards. Draco thought he might have heard him mutter, “Like velvet,” but he couldn’t be sure before his lips were claimed again. Harry simultaneously flipped them over and pushed them up further onto the bed.

“Gr-ah-mmmm.” Draco heard himself make the weird noise as Harry expertly maneuvered them into place, stroking Draco with more confidence now while leaning down to whisper in his ear, “got lube and condoms?”

Draco had lube, but he didn’t like to use condoms if he didn’t have to. That’s why he mostly stuck to blow jobs in the loo. He’d never felt weird about it until this moment. “Lube,” he answered, seeing what Harry would do.

Harry came up slightly short at that, “I know I’m clean,” he leaned down and kissed Draco again with some small measure of force before pulling back, “but are you?”

Draco nodded, before thinking he should offer more, “I’m far too OCD to get anything.”

Harry laughed, but Draco got the feeling it wasn’t directed at him. “I almost want to believe that,” Harry laughed, though this time it sounded a little more uneasy. Suddenly Draco wanted to erase those fears.

“Hey-” He stared at Harry intensely, searching his face and memorizing his features, well aware this feeling was very out of character for him. “It’s okay.” He reached his arms around Harry’s neck and leaned up to kiss him again before flipping them both back over so he was on top again, pressing his arse against Harry’s cock. “You know what you want, and anyway, you’re going to be fucking me.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up at that, but his eyes looked hazy with something like lust as Draco rubbed himself against Harry’s shaft. He hadn’t been fucked by anything that wasn’t a toy in a long while, but he was ready for that to change tonight.

Reaching over to his nightstand, Draco grabbed a bottle of lube. He added a small amount to his hand before slicking Harry’s cock with it, causing the other man to let out a deep moan. Draco used his other hand to play with his hole, stretching himself a moment before slathering more lube there, preparing himself to sit down on Harry’s cock.

“Hey, shouldn’t I-”

“Shush,” Draco said, not unkindly. But Harry’s eyes snapped shut at that, almost like they had been waiting for _permission_ and Draco moved himself into position and sank down onto Harry’s cock.

It was slow going at first, Harry was thick and Draco was tighter than he thought. It burned a little, but as soon as he felt the head of Harry’s cock cross the tight rim of his arse, it became easier to fit him inside. 

Harry’s groans encouraged him and Draco felt a moan of his own coming on as he fully sheathed Harry inside himself.

He felt so full and _complete._

Draco didn’t even have time to wonder at that thought before Harry was kissing him again, his hands moving to rest on Draco’s hips, as Draco got used to the feeling of the other man inside of him.

“Move,” Harry encouraged after a moment, “ah- ride my cock, Draco.”

That was so deliciously hot there was no way in the world Draco could resist a request like that. Slowly he started to move his hips before driving himself faster, impaling himself over and over, angling himself so Harry brushed against his prostate, ecstasy radiating throughout his body.

“You’re so hot,” Harry gasped out, “sexy.”

Draco felt his cock twitch at the words and reached down to grab it. Harry’s hand came up to intervene, stroking Draco’s cock himself and looking at Draco all the while like he was some bloody miracle on Earth.

Draco had never been looked at like that in his life.

Without warning, Harry flipped them back over so he was on top. He pulled out, and Draco almost whined at the loss, before plunging back in at the exact right angle to hit that bundle of nerves inside Draco that made him want to scream and his toes curl.

“Yes,” Harry encouraged, “let me hear you-”

He was mentally screaming, literally moaning, and completely lost to the feeling. Harry thrust in and out of him, driving deep inside Draco to stretch him from the inside out.

Draco couldn’t remember the last time sex had felt this good. Every nerve in his body was on fire as Harry pounded in and out of him, hiking his legs up higher and higher, pressing them together, moving faster and faster, until Draco felt heat pool in his stomach and his balls tighten.

Without warning Draco came, his hot seed spilling all over their stomachs, coating them both. Draco didn’t even spare a second to marvel at the fact that he’d come from his prostate alone, when Harry called out his name.

“Ah, Draco!” Harry cried as he pulled out of Draco’s tight arse and stroked his cock twice before his seed joined Draco’s own, leaving them both covered and sated.

Draco fell back onto his pillows, his head still buzzing and his lips still tingling. His arse was aching but it was the good kind of hurt that came from amazing sex. Normally, after a pounding like that, he would be opposed to anyone touching him. But as Harry moved to lay next to him, completely ignoring the cum between them, Draco found he wanted to be held in the other man’s arms.

The thought scared him half to death.

The other half of him was very excited and intrigued by this new development.

“Let’s get cleaned up, shall we?” he asked Harry, still slightly breathless.

“Aw, not much for after-cuddles, huh?” Harry asked.

That was exactly the problem. “Maybe,” Draco mumbled, “after we’re clean.”

He rolled off the bed, careful not to let any of the cum hit the comforter and moved to the bathroom to find some tissues, or something. He didn’t know Harry had followed until he found arms circling him from behind and warm kisses being pressed to his neck.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, surprised, “other than getting your spunk all over my back.”

Harry let out a small chuckle. “It’s your spunk too. And seeing as how I’m going to spend the night, I thought we could wash it off together in the shower.”

Draco sighed, not wanting to admit how good that idea sounded. Looking up he caught a glimpse of them in the mirror, Harry’s eyes closed, his lips still pressed to Draco’s neck. Looking at himself, Draco saw a vulnerable expression he almost didn’t recognize.

Harry squeezed him tighter and Draco allowed himself to melt into the touch.

An hour later, as they lay in bed together, both dirtier and cleaner for the shared shower, tucked into each other’s arms, the thought dawned on Draco that, even if somehow Harry was gone come morning, he’d had the best sex of his life.


	9. Blond Macchiato

**Blond Macchiato **

But Harry wasn’t gone come morning.

Together they had gotten up and dressed, sharing more kisses than Draco could ever remember getting in the morning, and had walked down to the coffee shoppe together hand in hand.

It was only after Draco had his blond roast in front of him that he felt safe to ask his one question of the day.

“So, what are we?”

Harry let out a laugh. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

The two eyed each other for a moment before Harry broke the silence. “I would like to date you,” he ventured, “exclusively. It’s up to you if you want that too…” He let his voice trail off, but not before Draco picked up on his hopeful tone.

Draco allowed himself a moment to think about it. It would probably get himself into a world of grief with his family to make something like this official, but if last night was any indication, Harry was well worth it.

More than worth it.

“I think-” Draco cleared his throat. “I think I would like that.”

“So,” Harry’s voice sounded slightly awkward, “that’s settled then.”

“Yeah,” Draco voiced, sipping his coffee. Only nothing _felt_ settled. So he decided to try again. “So I can call you my boyfriend now? I’d like that.” The words were out of Draco’s mouth before he could stop them, but he was surprised to realize that they were true. He may have officially lost his mind, but there they were.

Green eyes lit up. “You- you mean that?”

Draco nodded, as surprised at himself as Harry sounded. 

Harry’s lips crashed against his own, sending him spiraling and forcing him to put his coffee down on the table so he could kiss back. The kiss was passionate and felt oddly like a promise. It reminded Draco of the phrase “sealed with a kiss.”

Pulling back, Harry smiled. It was genuine and his eyes were bright as he said, “I’d really like that.”

“Like what?”

“Being your boyfriend. I have never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

_‘Oh...’_

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been with guys, but never in a committed relationship. Never really wanted one with any other bloke like that before. Before you.”

“Never?”

'Before me.' Draco couldn't get his mind past those two words.

Harry nodded. “Draco, you make me feel, I don’t know, alive again. Like there was this empty part of me that somehow you’ve filled. I don’t know how to describe it, but I know that when I’m around you I feel like everything is okay and- It feels _right_. We just fit.”

The speech was not the most elegant Draco had ever heard, but it was certainly one of the most personal. And it was about him. It made his chest tighten, his stomach warm, and his eyes slightly itchy. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Harry’s lips.

“You,” Draco offered, but immediately felt overwhelmed so he paused for a moment to take a deep breath. Harry looked at him with concerned green eyes. Draco tried again. “You look at me like you actually see me. Like you actually care. In my life, I don’t know if I have ever been looked at that way. It makes me feel-” ‘ _loved’_ “whole. Like a real person, with thoughts and feelings that won’t be rejected if expressed.”

Harry smiled at him, a shy secret smile just for him, and Draco felt his heart melt. “Well of course, you’re in a league of your own. I would have been lucky just to have met you, but now, well, I’m beginning to think we might be compatible on every level.”

Draco didn’t know when he’d become a fan of poetry, but Harry’s words certainly seemed to be working their magic on him now.

“I know we have a ways to go ahead of us, but if you can put up with me - and I’ve already made it abundantly clear I can more than put up with you,” Harry playfully elbowed him in his side before his voice became more serious, “I would be honored to go through life by your side.”

‘Where were these speeches coming from?’ Draco wondered, looking at Harry a little skeptically, before blurting out, “Is all this because we had sex and you’re a stage five clinger?”

Harry shot him a look before throwing his head back in a laugh that shook his whole body. “Bloody hell, there’s my Blond Roast! I’m glad to see him back.” Harry smiled as his shoulders continued to shake even as he calmed back down. “And the answer, if you care, is _no_ \- you can ask anyone, I’m usually the one pushing others away first before _they_ can hurt _me_. Comes from being an orphan, you know? Attachment issues.” He shrugged. “But I can see myself with you. We work well together. I think you know that.”

Draco did know that. He had a habit of making things way harder on himself than they should be, so he conceded.

“So, if we’re boyfriends, does this mean you’ll buy me all my coffees now?”

Harry laughed. “How about we switch off every other day?”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Draco challenged back, “maybe I need to sweeten the deal with more sex.”

“You can have all the sex you want,” Harry whispered huskily, “the way you made me cum last night-”

Without thinking Draco groaned and looked around frantically before lowering his voice in a warning tone, “Not in the coffee shoppe,” he grunted out, “we’re not in a club-” 

“Nobody’s listening,” Harry reassured, “since when are you such a prude?”

Draco wanted to protest that he wasn’t a prude, that he had other concerns on his mind about who might be listening, but mostly he’d shut Harry up because of the stirring he’d felt in his groin thinking about the previous night - ‘if he didn’t want to sit here with a hard-on, did that mean he was being a prude?’

Harry lowered his voice, “You made me cum so hard I saw stars.”

Draco felt a pull with Harry’s words, like being at the edge of a cliff looking down into deep blue water below, clear sky above, and knowing one wrong step could send him crashing down.

Or maybe the right step could send him flying.

* * *

One week passed, then two, then three. Draco slowly stopped being surprised to see Harry every morning at the coffee shoppe and increasingly more nights in his bed. It seemed they were forever finding their balance of dominance and submission between them, and Draco found he had no desire to venture outside their relationship for _any_ sort of companionship, sexual or not. He was even seeing Blaise less than usual, which didn’t go unnoticed.

 _"Who is he?"_ Blaise had called in reinforcements for his second round of questioning. Pansy had been harder to dismiss than her boyfriend, but Draco did his best to sound detached when he had told her, “Nobody.”

The lie had actually hurt and had felt like it tore a hole through his heart.

Because, labels aside, Harry _was_ quickly becoming a somebody to Draco. A constant presence in his life who, against all odds, was still there. The person who Draco would fall asleep beside at night and wake up with the next morning, who he got his coffee with, and generally who he started and ended each day next to.

It was moving from novel to becoming something of a habit.

Draco wasn’t sure how he felt about the growing dependency, but he didn’t want to let go. He was discovering the trade-offs might be worth the risk.

Life continued on for a while - a blur of coffee, fucking, sleeping, and more coffee - until one morning when Harry looked up at Draco over their table.

“I can’t come over tonight.”

The silence stretched between them. Green eyes looked shyly at him from behind glasses, with something like regret. It wasn’t the first time Harry hadn’t spent the night, but there weren’t many. Draco had yet to go to Harry’s place, but wherever the other man was living he seemed to prefer Draco’s place anyway, so it suited them both.

“Why?” Draco demanded cooly, trying to remain as detached as possible and _failing._

“My editor has me meeting with a publisher tomorrow, out of town. It’s not far, just a couple of hours, but I’ll be meeting with them early so she wants me to stay there overnight.”

“And you waited until the last possible minute to tell me?” Draco glared accusingly.

“Because I thought you might react like this. Besides, I only just found out at the beginning of this week. If they like my newest book, they might buy it for more than my last. This could be a really big opportunity for me, Draco,” Harry pleaded with a soft, slightly-worried, smile.

Draco wanted to yank that smile off his face, but he sucked down a breath and tried to be supportive. After all that’s what boyfriends did, right? They supported each other? Not that Draco would know first hand, it was only a theory, but he certainly didn’t want to deliberately start a fight, in their coffee shoppe, the morning before Harry was set to leave.

“Will you come with me?” Harry's voice was pleading and caught Draco off-guard.

“Huh?” 

“That’s my question this morning. Will you come with me?”

Draco shook his head. “Even if I want to, I can’t. Tomorrow is a work-day and I-”

“So call out of work.” Harry’s eyes shone bright, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “Even CMO’s need the day off.”

“I do not think that is a good idea.” Draco could feel the irritation building up in him, and he fought to keep it down. He knew he was failing.

“I know,” Harry said with a sigh, “but I wanted to ask anyway. I promise you I’ll make it up to you this weekend when I’m back.”

“You-” Draco looked up over his coffee. “You better.” He settled on, his voice cutting out as he looked back down at the table. 

Harry stood up and downed the last of his coffee before moving over towards Draco and running his hands through his hair, briefly. Draco felt himself lifting up to the touch, he’d been becoming more and more accustomed to it recently.

If he was being honest with himself, he might say he was becoming addicted.

“I will,” Harry promised softly, reaching down to grab Draco’s wrist and pull him up, then tugged him forward with some urgency. Draco quickly reached back for his half-consumed coffee before he allowed Harry to pull him out the door and around the corner of the shoppe.

He opened his mouth, ' _What the-'_ sitting on the tip on his tongue, when he found himself pressed up against the brick wall in the alley, Harry’s lips on his, in broad daylight.

Draco felt like he might melt into the brick wall behind his back.

Harry pressed his tongue against Draco’s lips, who gladly opened for him, welcoming the contact. Somehow, kissing Harry never seemed to get old, no matter how many times their lips met, it still always felt new and exciting, like something forbidden or daring, the discovering of a secret treasure.

Draco moaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, coffee cup dangling from his fingertips.

Minutes melted away as they made out against the alley wall. Eventually Harry pulled away.

“I’ll see you in less than 48-hours, okay? I’ll be here the morning I get back.”

Draco just nodded in a lustful daze, staring up at green eyes as Harry leaned down to kiss him on the lips again. 

It was a quick kiss, and he pulled away after but left a hand in Draco’s hair, gently petting.

“I’ll miss you,” Harry whispered, “every minute.”

And, Draco knew, he would miss Harry too. But he wasn’t going to be a sap and say it out loud. 

Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Harry one more time. “I know,” he said, pulling away, “I’m irresistible.” 

Harry laughed at that. “Your ego knows no bounds, huh?”

“No, I’m just your Blond Roast,” Draco ventured, “and you need me in the mornings.”

The expression on Harry’s face at that was not one Draco would soon forget.


	10. Blond Grounds

**Blond Grounds**

The next morning, when Draco ventured to the coffee shoppe alone, he caught a glimpse of a headline on the paper by the counter:

**mTech CMO and Author of Lyla Fair: Dating?!**

Reporter Rita Skeeter dishes the inside scoop.

Below that Draco caught the top portion of a photo with brick that looked suspiciously familiar…

His phone buzzed.

“Hello?”

“Oh _Draco_ ,” Pansy’s voice came through sharp and concerned, “why didn’t you tell us you were dating Boyd Seeker? I can’t believe I had to find out in the tabloids. Do your parents know? What did your father _say_?”

Draco fought the urge to hang up on her, enraged. This was bad. Had he been set up? He thought back to Harry’s actions yesterday as he frantically reached out and grabbed the paper from the counter, flipping it open. Sure enough, a full color photo of Harry kissing him in the alley the morning before was staring back at him. Draco felt like he might be sick. Except the picture looked kind of cute, and he looked _happy_. It was strange looking at a version of himself he didn’t recognize printed for the whole world to see.

“It’s all over the internet,” Pansy continued into Draco’s silence, “at least it’s a good picture, if damning. But I don’t know how your father is going to do damage control on this one. I talked to Blaise and he agrees.”

Draco knew he should not be surprised Blaise knew about this too, but somehow he was. But overriding that was the knowledge that Blaise knew who Boyd really was - he’d met him as Harry after all.

Draco fought the urge to bang his head against the wall.

Pansy was speaking, but Draco wasn’t listening. “I have to go,” he told her, ending the call through her protests and immediately searching the internet for the article. He copied the first search result and popped it into a message box.

“www.dailycoffee.co.uk\mTechCMOandAuthorofLylaFair - Did you plan this?”

He looked down at the message and deleted “plan”, replacing it instead with “know about” and hit send. Anger pressing on him like a ton of bricks, he took a minute to study the picture of them closer. Harry pressed up against him, both their eyes closed, appearing for the moment to be in their own little bubble, removed from the world and everyone else in it.

It was a shame there had been a reporter nearby to ruin it all. 

Draco kept having to dismiss the thought that Harry had been in on it all. If he was, Draco tried to think logically, he would have had to plan it in advance, making sure he was away the next day when the fall out happened-

Draco came up short at that thought. Maybe he really had planned it. He glanced down at his phone. Still no response. But still, a small voice in the back of Draco’s mind whispered, ‘if he was meeting with publishers, he could be in the meeting with them now _…_ ’

Draco wanted to shoot something. He just hoped he could make it to his office without anyone else bothering him.

His phone rang for a second time. He looked down and saw it was his mother. He had half a mind to decline the call.

Instead he picked up on the fourth ring.

“Oh _Draco,"_ unlike Pansy, her voice sounded exasperated, “why did you have to go and make your affairs so public?”

Draco didn’t have a good answer for her.

“You know _I_ don’t care whom you’re seen with, as long as it’s nothing serious, of course, but your father has been raving about decorum all morning since we saw your little trist in the news. Needless to say he isn’t pleased. He’s going to deal with the fallout with Riddle, but you should expect a long talk with both of them in the near future.”

Draco gritted his teeth but remained quiet. He often found this worked better than protesting. It was a tactic that served to make her mad, but it was better than her twisting his words later on.

And he’d been expecting the _discussion_ with his father from the minute he glanced at the headline. So that was not unexpected. 

“Draco? _Draco_!” his mother’s voice was rising steadily through the phone now, “are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, Mother,” he answered, suddenly fighting off the urge to cry, his legs feeling heavy beneath him.

“Good, because we will be discussing this,” she insisted, “Now for damage control, we will do what is best for you, Draco.”

Draco didn’t know how to tell her that what was best for him would not align with her ideas, so he let her go.

It was an odd dilemma that he found himself in, he considered as he dragged himself into his office, that what might be best for him was the one who got him into this trouble in the first place. He threw himself into the chair behind his desk before leaning forward, head in his hands, in an attempt to block out the world around him.

“Draco?” his secretary’s voice carried through the speaker of his office, “there’s someone here to see you.”

The words barely finished reverberating around the room when the door to his office burst open. Draco, fully expecting to see his father or Riddle before him, was in complete and utter shock when he looked up into expressive green eyes, their intensity burning as they met his. The sound of the door closing shut faded into the background. A hint of mystery flashed over those green eyes before Harry turned away. The sound of the door locking seemed to echo, then the green gaze was back on him.

“I can’t leave you alone for one minute, can I?” the author laughed, and Draco shook his head in bewilderment that Harry was standing _here,_ in his office. Looking so _normal_ in his baggy jeans, old shoes - albeit slightly nicer ones than normal - and white t-shirt. Draco hoped that he had changed from his meeting before coming here, but knowing Harry he’d probably simply removed a sport coat and left it somewhere. The thought caused his stomach to drop and he felt his anger start to dislodge, freeing itself from deep within Draco’s psyche.

But he couldn’t let it go just yet.

“Did you orchestrate this?” he demanded, slightly outraged, watching the hurt build in Harry’s eyes.

“Of course not!” Harry insisted, drawing himself up. “If I did, do you think I would leave one of the more important publication meetings of my career on a ‘family emergency’ to be here?”

Draco chose to ignore the warmth that spread along with the ‘family emergency’ bit for the moment. “I don’t know what you would do. I certainly didn’t _think_ you were capable of this!” Draco was on his feet now as Harry advanced towards him, hurt clear in his eyes, but something else as well. Something Draco could not name beyond his own pain.

“I am not capable of this!” Harry growled, grabbing Draco’s wrist. He’d never seen the other man so mad. “I just wanted to bloody kiss my boyfriend goodbye. And I thought removing us from the coffee shoppe would somehow give us _more_ privacy. Stupid me. How could I possibly think _that_?” Harry’s expression was livid as he stepped closer to Draco. “I _missed_ you. I thought of nothing all last night but you! But I didn’t dare text you until you texted me first. And you didn’t text me _at all_. It was a thrill, right in the middle of my meeting, to see your name pop up on my phone. Imagine my following disappointment when I opened the link you attached.”

“So you rushed back here? For what?” Draco challenged, “and to my _work_ of all places.”

It had only just occurred to him that Harry had never been to his office before.

“To prove to you that I did not know about this. I did _not_ do this. I was concerned about you!” And with that Harry was kissing him, almost harshly and with heavy desperation, pressing them together. He held his hands on the small of Draco's back and pushed him against the desk. Draco felt his cock strain against his trousers.

“Draco- Draco-” Harry was desperately muttering now, moving down to kiss Draco’s neck. 

“I believe you.” 

Draco’s words rang into the room and no one was more shocked than he to find he _did_ believe Harry. This hadn’t been a set up on his part. That knowledge somehow made the fallout slightly easier to deal with.

If Harry kept kissing him like that, anyway.

The words seemed to encourage Harry as he pressed their bodies together. Draco could feel Harry’s hard length pressing up against his stomach. The heat and friction between them spurred Draco’s fantasies for all the wrong reasons, and yet suddenly they felt so right.

It was odd to have the feeling that someone was in your corner, that someone knew exactly what you were going through, because it was happening to them too.

“I don’t know how I am going to explain it to my editor,” Harry said in between hard kisses, “and I’ll deal with my friends and fans, but of the two of us, you are probably going to have a harder time explaining what’s been going on.”

Draco nodded in agreement but did not trust himself to speak.

“But, if you want me there-” Harry pulled back, suddenly stopping the kisses, and green eyes looked at him intensely. “Draco, you do not have to handle this alone.”

“Like hell I do,” Draco spat out bitterly.

“Like hell you _don’t,_ ” Harry countered with exactly as much vigor, “I am your boyfriend. What in the _bloody hell_ do you think that _means_ exactly? That I’m going to run when things get tough?” He leaned forward and planted a single loving kiss on Draco’s lips. “If you think that, you don’t know me at all.”

Those words, once spoken, robbed Draco of any response, so he moved forward and wrapped his arms around Harry, holding him close. He allowed his head to rest on Harry’s shoulder, a position he was becoming more and more familiar with in bed but not as much outside of it. He felt Harry place a kiss on the top of his head as they stood there for a moment, allowing their heart rates to return back to normal, trying to corral their collective anger for the situation that they could do little about.

They stayed there a while, until Draco felt like he might suffocate, and so he pulled back and kissed Harry’s neck before reaching his hand down and palming Harry’s cock through his jeans.

“Oh, _Draco-“_ For the third time that day, Draco heard that phrase, but this time it sounded of both pleasure and as a warning. That was enough to encourage Draco to move his hand up to Harry’s waistband and unhook the button, freeing Harry’s cock from the strain of the fabric.

‘Commando, even for a business meeting. Harry was certainly unique.’

Draco took it in his hand and stroked, using slightly more pressure than he and Harry had fallen into in the past weeks. Harry didn’t seem to mind. 

“Oh yes, Draco,” his voice was low, commanding and sexy, “let me _feel_ you.”

Draco squeezed tighter and moved faster. His actions earned him the rewards of Harry’s soft moans, which were hot and heavy in his ear, but quiet as to not be heard by the rest of the mTech.

Moans just for Draco.

Without warning Harry reached around and forcefully grabbed Draco’s arse, lifting him up so he was sitting on the desk, forcing Draco to free his fingers from Harry’s cock, before the other man leaned down and aggressively undid Draco’s trousers with his _teeth_ , exposing Draco’s prick to the cool air.

He barely had time to react before Harry had taken him into his mouth.

Draco had been on the receiving end of many of Harry’s blowjobs at this point, but this one somehow felt different. A little more confident, a little less timid, and a little more sexy. Draco couldn’t determine if it was all from the man in front of him or the fact that they were doing this at his work, in his _office,_ where he could get caught at any moment, but he couldn’t find it in him to _care_ all that much. Not when he was certain his father and Riddle were going to suspend him anyway while they worked their magic on damage control.

No, Draco really didn’t care when Harry sucked his cock like that.

“Yesss-” he hissed out quietly, pressing Harry’s head down, feeling his tip hit the back of his throat as the other man deep throated him, taking him all in over and over again. The heat from his mouth was intense as Harry looked up at him with determination in his bright green eyes. The sight was incredibly sexy and hot, and Draco fought the urge to close his eyes and continued to watch as Harry stared up at him, fully conscious of every action. He sucked Draco down hungrily, and Draco lost himself to the rhythm of his cock disappearing in and out of Harry’s mouth until he felt his balls tighten and heat pool in his groin. Then he came, convulsing, into Harry, watching as the other man swallowed each and every drop.

When the shaking subsided some, Harry still lapping at Draco’s dick, Draco reached down and pulled him back up. “We’re not done yet,” he insisted, hopping off the desk and kissing Harry intensely as he lowered his pants to the floor and turned around. “Fuck me,” he commanded abandoning all reason, “I need to feel you, here.”

And, like he’d said the magic words, Harry was suddenly on top of him, pressing Draco’s torso down into the desk almost painfully before whispering in his ear, “Do you have lube?”

Draco didn’t, and indicated as such, as Harry kneeled at his backside and took a tentative swipe at his hole with his tongue. Draco moaned.

In all the times they had slept together, Harry had never rimmed him - a fact he was more than making up for now - as his hot tongue explored Draco’s tight pucker, spreading his cheeks for better access, trying to be quick yet thorough. Draco’s erection sprang back to life, leaking some onto his desk, as Harry teased him mercilessly. 

Draco felt his nerves fray and his bones turning to jelly when Harry finally moved back and into position. He stroked his cock a couple times before placing the swollen head against Draco's wet hole and pushing forward. Draco felt the moment his body relaxed enough to let Harry inside, and Harry filled him in one agonizingly slow but steady thrust.

Pain and pleasure spread like wildfire throughout Draco’s body as Harry began to fuck him in earnest, over his desk, like there was never a time when they didn’t do this.

“Oh _Draco_ ,” Harry breathed softly into his ear, “you’re always so tight.”

In response Draco squeezed his arse, an action that spurred Harry to fuck him harder. Then Harry was pressing down on Draco’s shoulders, pushing until he was lying directly on top of his desk. Clearly satisfied with their new position, Harry’s hands returned to grip his hips, pulling him to meet each thrust. Draco was lost to the rhythm as Harry hit that sweet spot inside him repeatedly with a now practiced ease. Harry’s hands were scorching hot where they gripped him, almost painfully tightly, as he thrust in and out, marking Draco’s body and claiming him _right there_. Harry leaned down to kiss and lick up his neck, and Draco’s heart ignited, intensity and passion surely burning a hole through the desk.

Draco bit his lip to not let out a moan. He could feel Harry deep inside of him, balls resting against his ass. Harry's breath was ragged in his ear - he was getting close. They both were, so Draco all but begged, "Cum- cum inside me."

It was something Harry had never done before, despite all the times they’d slept together in the past month. When Draco had asked about it, Harry had just shrugged and said he’d been used to pulling out. When Draco had reminded him how weird that was, considering he shot blanks anyway, Harry had just shrugged and carried on, unconcerned.

But Draco could feel from the desperate and fast push of Harry’s hips that this time would be different. His grunts and moans built up as much as they could allow before Draco felt Harry shoot his load deep inside his arse, dick pulsing with each spurt. It was so hot inside of him that Draco felt a second load tear out of his cock and fall onto his desk.

Harry collapsed on top of him, exhausted and exhilarated, as he played with Draco’s hair. Draco turned his face to kiss him, a sloppy one, missing his mouth at first before reconnecting, Harry’s cock still deep in his arse as it softened.

“I love you.”

The words were so faint Draco almost didn’t hear them, but he had no time to let them sink in before there was a knock on the door.

They sprang apart, each quickly pulling on their pants. Draco quickly flung some files across his desk to hide the evidence of their lovemaking.

He was so frantic that he didn’t even baulk at the idea of ‘lovemaking.’

“Come in,” he called, watching as his secretary peered around the door frame. Draco remembered that she had a key.

If fucking Harry was going to become a regular thing in his office, he was going to need to rethink that judgement, and fast.

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked, “President Riddle has called for you. Should I tell him you’ll be by to meet him?”

Draco looked at Harry for a moment before turning back toward the door, “Yes,” he said, resigned. “Tell him I will be along shortly.”

The secretary nodded and shut the door, leaving him and Harry with a few more precious moments of alone time.

“Do you want me to come?” Harry asked, looking at Draco, “I will come with you, if you want me to.”

Draco thought about it. If the whole thing was unavoidable, would it help or hinder to have Harry there with him, by his side? The words he thought he might have heard played in his mind: I love you.

‘Did he love Harry too?’

Looking him up and down, Draco took in Harry’s old shoes, his baggy jeans, loose t-shirt, and messy black hair, saving those green eyes for last and realized that he never wanted to go another day without seeing that ridiculously sloppy ensemble, accompanied by those green eyes and heartfelt smile. They were somehow, impossibly, a match on all levels and no matter what Riddle said or what his father wanted, Draco would do nothing to jeopardize what he had found here, in this man, who he knew loved him.

Draco leaned over and pulled Harry closer, kissing him soundly, warmly, and softly, with intent to convey the heat building in his chest, the tingling in his toes.

Pulling back he looked up into Harry’s eyes.

“I love you.”

The words were a barely there whisper in the air, but they were heartfelt and sincere and Draco found he really meant them.

Harry’s green eyes sparkled when he looked into them, and he knew that together they would be able to weather any of the coming storms. After all, what was Green Eyes without Blond Roast in his life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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